


A Second Chance

by TheDuchessApproves



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Deals, F/M, Fluff, Henchmaniacs, Slavery, Smut, don't know if there with be rape/non-con, mindscape, probably will be minor bdsm & bloodplay & that kind of weird Bill stuff, standard 'Bill is a manipulative asshole' rules apply, this is going to be a lot of chapters, twin loyalty feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 15:21:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 32
Words: 39,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6663982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDuchessApproves/pseuds/TheDuchessApproves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years after the events of the finale.</p>
<p>When Bill Cipher is accidentally freed, Mabel is forced to make a tough call and strikes a deal. Dipper is determined to save his sister from Bill. Both Mabel and Bill find their expectations challenged but even if they are willing to try new things, that doesn't mean their friends will like it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mystery Twins

“For old time’s sake!” Dipper had insisted.

Mabel had been hesitant to join her brother on this foray into the wilds of Gravity Falls, but his appeal to her nostalgia had gotten the better of her. It had been three years since their last summer with Grunkle Stan, and a lot had changed. The self-proclaimed Mystery Twins were more than a head taller (Dipper now the ‘Alpha Twin’, standing at just under six feet, nearly a foot taller than Mabel, to her chagrin), three years wiser, and just as inseparable as ever. While High School had thrust them in different directions academically and socially, they remained the best of friends. If anything, their differences brought them closer together, their devotion to each other a bridge between two different worlds within the same High School. They had already nursed each other through many broken hearts and academic humiliations and they weren't yet 16. The Mystery Twins were as close as ever, but with very little emphasis on the ‘Mystery’.

Until now, it seemed. The twins were back in Gravity Falls for another summer, and they hadn't been back twenty-four hours before Dipper was aching for adventure. Mabel had loved exploring Gravity Falls too, but after the events of Weirdmageddon, she wasn't all too eager to go seeking nightmares. So when her brother proposed they seek Bigfoot, while she agreed that it was funny that they'd left that notorious monster alone, she firmly declined.

 “Oh, c’mon, Mabel! Bill is gone, there's nothing out there that we can't take on together!”, Dipper insisted, his palms turned up optimistically.

 “Bill Cipher totes wasn't the only dangerous thing in Gravity Falls,” Mabel countered, her memory drawn to any number of scrapes with death they'd had that summer, “Need I remind you of zombies, and gnomes, and gremloblins--”

 “--And all of them --even Bill!-- were no match for the Mystery Twins!” the old name struck a heartstring and Dipper knew he'd won. He held out his hand for a fist bump, “C’mon, Mabes, for old time's sake?”

  _We never could say no to each other,_ Mabel thought as they trudged through dense underbrush about twenty minutes later, _Besides I'm not scared of anything out here._  The air in this part of the forest had a pungent, organic smell. Mabel found herself thinking of the stray cats in Piedmont, scenting their territory with urine. They’d been talking the whole way, about how strange and nice it was to be back in Gravity Falls, until falling into a companionable silence a moment ago. It was only June but the day was hot even under the shade of the leaves, and Mabel’s forehead and upper lip were damp with sweat. Her legs from the knee down were hot and tingly from scuffs and scratches. She smiled a little at the gentle waves of minor pain she felt, warm hums of blood rushing to form ribbons of scab. It was a pleasant kind of pain.

 “See! I knew you'd have fun!” Dipper said, triumphantly, misunderstanding the cause for her smile.

 “Pssh, sure, bro-bro,” she said, giving his shoulder a light punch, “It's Bigfoot that has me in such a good mood, not spending some good old-fashioned quality time with the bestest---”

 As if on cue, she was interrupted by a low growl to their right. Their heads spun to see the source of the sound. Only about 8 feet away stood what had to be the Bigfoot. First of all, the name was no misnomer. Its feet were huge, about the length of Mabel’s leg. It didn't look like the eerie (but fake) photos that sometimes got published. It was much larger (evidently not just a nerd in a gorilla costume) and not as woolly. It was broad-shouldered and solidly-built, not more than seven feet tall. It's face was a hairless, huge distorted human face, and the expression was decidedly mad. It was looking around with small pale eyes, its huge nostrils opening and closing furiously, its large strange ears twitching.

 “I don't think it can see us,” Dipper breathed, making no sound anyone but his twin could decipher, “but it heard us and it can maybe smell us.”

 “Well, I can ceeeertainly smell him” Mabel breathed back, pinching her nose. Dipper gave her a small wry smile in agreement. Now that the creature was before them, the source of the stench was undeniable. Now that the beast was before her, Mabel found herself impatient to get properly acquainted, “I'm getting a closer look.” She said, and was out of his reach before Dipper could pull her back. Dipper inched forward after her, treading lightly on the brush. Her brother caught up and gave her an admonishing look as he moved in front of her. She rolled her eyes, _always the genthleman._ Bigfoot showed no signs of seeing them. They were close now, only a couple yards from the creature's famously huge feet. A soft breeze blew against Mabel's back, shifting her brown curls over her shoulder, and disturbing the stagnant heat. Suddenly, Bigfoot’s hair bristled, as if he sniffed at an unfamiliar scent in his territory.

 “Dipper!” Mabel cried, seeing the signs an instant before Dipper. Reflexively, he turned at the sound of his name and his eyes met his sister's a millisecond before a huge hand sideswiped him, throwing him several feet against a nearby tree. Mabel heard a sickening snap as he hit the trunk, and knew it was not wood breaking.

 Throwing caution to the wind (which fortunately shifted again in her favor), Mabel ran to Dipper, thorns and twigs scraping like claws against her bare legs and arms. She fell to her knees beside her brother's body, her stomach turning when she saw his leg, bent away from his body in a cartoonishly wrong angle. She put her hand to his cheek and his already-bruising face winced as he opened his eyes just a slit, “...M-Mabel…”

 “Dipper, oh god, D-Dipper, just stay still,” she stammered, “You...you're hurt, y--”

 “Mabel!” Dipper hissed, “Get the hell out of here! It's not safe!”

 “Like hell I will!” Mabel fumed, voice rising, “I'm not leaving you!”

 “GO!” He managed to snarl, using all the strength in his arms to push her away as the Bigfoot swiped again, large square fingers grazing Mabel’s shoulder and closing around Dipper’s  body, before flinging it like a ragdoll against an overgrown, pointed rock. Mabel shrieked. A gust of wind, hot as steam and strange-smelling, like copper and cloves and smoke, rose suddenly and powerfully. The Bigfoot took one sniff and whimpered like a puppy. It ran away as though the Devil were at its heels.

 Mabel scrambled, tripping and cursing, to her twin’s side. Her vision was blurred with tears, but the sight was still horrible. All of Dipper’s limbs appeared to be broken, or were at least cut and bleeding. His mussed hair was full of dirt and leaves and a jagged cut on his hairline was leaking bright blood down his face and into his eyes. The brown eyes, normally wide and alert, were glassy and blinking. Blood gushed from his nose onto his quivering lips. Mabel was saying his name but he was not responding. Finally his searching eyes found hers, “...M-Mabel…” he murmured, before his eyes unfocused and his head lolled to one side.

 “NoooOOO!” Mabel’s shrill scream rent the quiet of the forest, drowning out the ever rising wind. She fell upon her brother's still body, weeping into his shirt and screeching for help, “NO! NO! No, pleeease! Dip-Dipper, come back! HELP! Somebody--ANYBODY--please, please help me!!”

 “Geez, Shooting Star, nothing like the sweet sound of a mortal begging to wake me up!” a voice she would never forget said above her, the tone congenial and mocking, sending a shiver down her spine, “Sounds like you're in the market for a deal!”


	2. Homecoming

Bill could not believe his luck. All that time in his blank prison of stone, he'd known it was only a temporary setback. At first, he'd been pretty pissed off, yeah, harnessing all his strength till he was spent just trying to break free. But at least he had figured out the Pines’ plan an instant before it would have been too late. He retreated from Stanley’s mind into the physical form he'd created, only to find that the order of this stupid dimension had been restored and he couldn't get out. But after all his millenia, what were a few years? Even if he had had to wait for the elements to erode his stone body, soon enough he'd be free. 

But this? Well, he couldn't have planned a better homecoming party himself. And when you’re an ageless chaos god, you know how to throw one hell of a party. Not only did they break his stone hell, releasing him from that unforgivably dull, unalterable void, but he had woken to his favorite sound. He'd heard humans describe waking to the sound of birdsong, how comforting, how invigorating. He didn't care a lick for birdsong, but he thought that his equivalent must be the crazed lamentation of a mourning human. And a girl, nonetheless! He'd always had a particular taste for the cries of women.

It was better still. Not only was he freed. Not only was a human being crying at his feet. But it was Shooting Star, and he could smell her delicious desperation. Was there anything she would not give him?

His superior intellect deduced the situation much faster than she did. Benefit of the doubt given, she was clearly in shock. And he was only here to bend her mind a bit further. “Geez, Shooting Star, nothing like the sweet sound of a mortal begging to wake me up! Sounds like you're in the market for a deal!”

She looked up at him, stricken. He grinned inwardly,  _ how delightful. _ He hovered over his old body-turned-prison and she knelt at its base with Pine Tree’s broken body. What perfect symmetry that the body of his old adversary should be the key that opened his cage. He’d always loved symmetry. Shooting Star was covered in dirt, blood, and leaves but he could see she'd grown into an ideal female specimen.  _ All the more fun to break _ , he thought. Her large brown eyes shone in her tear-reddened face, distrusting but desperate.

“Bill Cipher?” she finally choked out.  _ Ahh,  _ hearing his name after all this time felt good.

“At your service!” he chirped, with a jocular tip of his hat.

“I must be hallucinating…” Shooting Star muttered, closing her eyes and rubbing them, “We destroyed Bill Cipher.”

“Didn’t anyone ever tell ya it's rude to talk about someone as if they aren't there?” he rumbled threateningly, growing tinged with red. Shooting Star’s eyes widened in fear. Bill shook it off and added cheerfully, “But it's cute that you thought you destroyed me! Shooting Star, it's really not that easy!” he patted the apex of his old body, “I've just been kicking back in here til ole Pine Tree was kind enough to bust me out!” Bill hovered down closer to her, watching as she possessively clutched Pine Tree’s body nearer to herself and away from him, “Which reminds me! You sure sounded like you were in need of a favor, whaddya say?”

“No way in hell, Bill,” Shooting Star retorted, trying oh so hard to sound confident. Her unrelenting tears hurt the illusion somewhat.

“Message received. I guess you don't want your brother back. My mistake.” Bill demurred, casually laying the bait. Her eyes darted to Pine Tree’s bloody face, to Bill, back to her brother. He could taste her considering it, and he could practically drool with anticipation.

“Of-of course, I want Dipper b-back…” she said softly, to herself and to the corpse she cradled. Then a wall of distrust seemed to hit Bill right in the eye. She raised her head boldly, “But I will not make a deal with you. You make crooked deals.” 

_ Well, she is smarter than she looks. What a relief.  _ But Bill Cipher was always prepared for cautious humans, he never would have come so far otherwise, “Oh, Shooting Star…” he hovered closer and softly touched her cheek with his hand. She jerked away, but waited for him to continue, “How I've wronged you! What you must think of me! Tell ya what, since you and Pine Tree freed me, I already owe ya one.” her eyes glinted with suspicion, but he also saw hope. She was his.

“Go on,” she said, trying to conceal the hope quickening her heart.

“Well, I give you what you want. Pine Tree back.” Bill watched as, despite herself, she gasped, how cute and pathetic that Shooting Star had no poker face. 

“No loopholes, Bill. What does ‘back’ mean?”

He was surprised again, she could be sharp. Good, he liked having a worthy opponent, “No loopholes.” he agreed “Back. Alive and well, spic and span, hale and hearty, call it what ya want.. Healthy and intact.”

“And you don't want anything in return?” she asked, unbelieving, “That's unlike you.”

“Well, well, maybe you passed judgment too soon.” Bill said, feigning offense. He saw that that hit home. He knew Shooting Star well enough to know that she wanted to believe everyone was a good guy, even the worst guys, “Besides, you already gave me my freedom!” He raised his hands in supplication.

Shooting Star looked down at Pine Tree’s glassy eyes and bloody, mottled, motionless face. Bill was about to push her with a ‘running-out-of-time’ lie, when she tossed her hair, steadily raised her eyes to meet his and extended a shaking hand. Bill’s hand, already wreathed in blue flame, reached for hers.

“Just keep an open mind,” he said, as if it were an afterthought, as their hands met. She nodded in agreement as they shook, and Bill left her, cackling as he returned to the Mindscape for the first time in too long.


	3. Suspicion

Dipper woke to the worst headache he had ever had, hands down. The first thing he noticed was the smell. The air smelled strange, familiar in a way that wrenched his gut, like smoke and spices and metal, and under that the odor of animal urine. The next thing he noticed was how uncomfortable he was. His whole body ached, and it felt as though he were slumped against sticks and hard earth and stone. But then he noticed the sound, and felt adrenaline flow through his veins. His eyes shot open instantly at the unmistakable sound of his sister crying.  _ Mabel! Is she hurt?  _

He saw her immediately, kneeling beside him, sobbing in earnest into her hands. The sight alarmed him. Dipper’s tongue and throat burned as he forced out words, “M-Mabel! Are you okay? Bigfoot, did it hurt you? Did--?”

Dipper was interrupted by Mabel throwing herself at him in a painful bear hug, “Dipper! Oh my god, oh my god, you’re okay! I can’t believe he did this!” She lifted her eyes to the strange boulder that stood beside them, and murmured, “Thank you.”

Bewildered and scared, Dipper pushed Mabel off and pulled himself into a sitting position. The last thing he remembered was flying, “What the hell is going on, Mabel?” he asked, “Did you defeat Bigfoot? How? What happened to me? Who are you thanking?”

As he watched, he could tell his sister was nervous. He could see her thinking hard, trying to figure out the answer to his questions. He awaited her lie, knowing the truth would not be taking her so long.

“I...uh, no, I didn’t defeat it. The wind blew and it just… just walked away,” Mabel explained, “You were knocked out when it threw you, so you must not remember…”

Dipper raised an eyebrow, looking at her. He could tell that she wasn’t telling him everything. It wasn’t hard, Mabel had never been a good liar, and he knew her better than anyone. He looked around, seeing the brush trampled flat in one direction, the way the beast must have gone. He looked back at Mabel, looking into her eyes, “Who were you thanking, Mabel?”

Mabel’s face paled and she stumbled to reply, “N-no one! Uh… our good fortune? I was thanking… Bigfoot for leaving us alone!” Dipper was about to question her further, when she interrupted, “We need to get you back to the Shack. You might be hurt and we’re in that thing’s territory. Dunno about you, but I wanna be long gone before that grumpy gus comes back.”

Dipper dropped it for now, letting Mabel help him to his feet. As they started walking, he leaned on her, even though he could tell he wasn’t hurt. Sore as hell, but not injured. Which was strange, because he swore he could remember breaking his leg. He looked down as he walked, seeing his jeans torn and bloody. As he lifted his knees to step over a fallen tree, he saw what he feared. Through the bloody tears in his jeans, the skin of his legs was perfectly untouched. Not even scraped. He looked over at his sister, cheerfully helping him along, and knew that she was concealing something.

~~~

Back at the Shack, Mabel plopped onto her bed, exhausted. Trudging back with Dipper had started out slow, but they had soon sped up when it became apparent that he didn’t need her assistance, after all. They got back, greeted by Stan’s incredulity that they managed to get into trouble so fast. Dipper went to take a shower, vehemently insisting that he did not need any help. Mabel went to their attic room, relieved to drop her defenses for a minute while she waited for the shower.

_ This is bad,  _ she thought to herself,  _ This is really bad. There’s some loophole, some trick, something. Bill Cipher doesn’t do things without expecting something in return. _

Her eyes welled up with tears, fearful, but also grateful. She had lost her brother and gotten him back. Even if he hadn’t been returned to her for free, it didn’t matter. You couldn’t put a price on that.  _ I don’t care,  _ she thought, stubbornly,  _ There’s nothing I wouldn’t give to protect Dipper.  _

Mabel shot up into a sitting position at the sound of Bill’s laugh in her ear. She looked around, but nothing was grey, she wasn’t in the Mindscape, he wasn’t here. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he had heard her thought, and he had liked it.

She no longer felt comfortable lying on her bed, it made her feel too vulnerable. Mabel got to her feet and paced the small familiar room. It was comforting and strange how little this room had changed in three years. Even after the Mystery Shack had been reconstructed in a somewhat different location after Weirdmageddon. It felt different, and she knew that the difference was within her. She smiled impassively at the posters that still hung on the wall by her bed, neon cats and boy bands. Mabel looked at herself in the old, wooden, full-length mirror that stood by the foot of her bed and nearly jumped at the sight of her reflection.

She thought she had turned out okay-looking enough, but you’d never know from seeing her right now. Her curly brown hair was a frizzy cloud around her head, still carrying leaves and sticks and other forest debris. Her skirt and tee shirt were ripped, dirty, in places bloody, her socks and skirt wet from the stream they’d crossed so that Bigfoot couldn’t trace their scent. She cringed, knowing that the blood on the front of her shirt was Dipper’s, from wounds he no longer had. Her arms and legs were scraped up and scabbing, coloring green and purple with new bruises. Looking down at her legs, Mabel thought for an instant about how nice the pain had felt when the scrapes were new.  _ There’s something seriously wrong me with me, _ she chastised herself,  _ Making deals with demons and smiling about pain.  _ She heard the laugh again, and jumped, losing her balance and falling on her butt.  _ I’m losing it. _

At that moment, Dipper knocked once and walked in, dressed in fresh clothes and drying his hair with a towel. He looked at Mabel, sitting on the floor by the mirror, white as a sheet and felt his suspicions strengthen. Something was up, “Mabel?”

She spun sharply to look at him, fear in her eyes for a second before she cleared it away.  _ Just Dipper. _ He could almost hear the thought, her poker face was so bad. He was about to ask her what was going on, when she interrupted him, “You done in the bathroom, bro-bro?”

He sighed a little. Getting her to talk wasn’t going to be easy, but he knew she had a secret, “Yeah. All yours.” He replied.

Mabel grabbed a change of clothes and walked off to the bathroom, glad to get away from Dipper’s curiosity. As she waited for the water to heat up, she admitted to herself,  _ I’m going to have to tell him. I don’t think Bill’s going to demand anything, but Dipper would be safer if he knew… _  She stepped into the hot shower and groaned, feeling the tension release from her muscles. Looking down at her feet, she saw clouds of reddish blood and brown grime swirling down the drain as they washed off of her. Mabel luxuriated in the water and the steam for a minute before getting to work, giving herself a much-needed deep cleaning. After soaping her body, she set to work de-tangling her hair and removing the debris, making a small pile of leaves and twigs on the rim of the tub. About halfway through her hair, she felt frustration ripple up through her. Mabel started tearing her hair apart, clawing at the snarls and knots, ripping out small chunks of wet hair along with the leaves. When she was finished, she felt the adrenaline of her anger slump, and the tears came. Her scalp burning, she fell to her knees in the shower and wept. The reality of losing Dipper hit her, and she grieved, even though it had been reversed. The implications of Bill’s survival started to blossom in her mind. She remembered the nightmare of Weirdmageddon, his doing, thought about who he was and what he was capable of.  _ Anything. _ Was that his voice or hers, reminding her of his omnipotence?

The water had grown cold and Mabel reached up to twist the knob. The water stopped, she realized how loud it had been, the bathroom now quiet apart from an occasional drip of water and her own uneven breathing. She reached out for the yellow towel hanging by the shower and draped it around her shoulders, seeking comfort more than drying herself. The small pile of leaves and sticks was still sitting on the tub, and she picked them up and placed them in the trashcan by the toilet. She looked up to see her reflection and was struck dumb. Written on the foggy mirror, as if by someone’s finger, was a message. “Quite a show, Shooting Star.”

Mabel attacked the mirror, wiping away the fog and erasing the message, but it chilled her heart. Bill Cipher was not gone, he never really had been, and she was in his debt.


	4. Party Animals

_ This is even more fun than I expected! _ Bill thought, watching Shooting Star’s crisis.  _ I just hope it isn’t too easy to break her. That would be a waste of such a good deal. _

“C’mon, Bill!, Quit being so serious!” Pyronica cooed, wrapping her fiery arms around Bill’s shoulders (not so much shoulders as symmetrical angles, but it was all the same here.)

“Heck, I was gone longer than I think if suddenly I’m the serious one!” Bill shot back, turning away from watching his newest toy and back to Pyronica and the other Henchmaniacs, gathered to celebrate his return. Teeth, 8-Ball, and Kryptos had all brought their mortal pets with them, for a laugh. Much as Bill wanted to watch Shooting Star’s descent into madness, he could never resist torturing mortals with his friends.

“You were gone too long, Cipher,” Keyhole said, slowly peeling a strip of skin from the chest of a shrieking human, “We started to think you weren’t coming back.”

“Nonsense, Keyhole,” Pyronica snapped, “Shut your trap before I lock it for you and throw away the key!”

“Good one!” 8-Ball explained, his eyes rolling around and revealing the phrase ‘IT IS CERTAIN’. Bill laughed along but watched carefully. He saw the look exchanged by Keyhole and Pyronica and knew he’d been replaced. He didn’t know if they were trying to hide it, but he’d been around the block a million times or so and it was written all over their faces. Not that he really cared at all. Pyronica had never meant anything to him, as he preferred the fragile flesh and psyche of mortals, so easily broken and such a delightful challenge to keep intact. Besides, she always hung off the arm of whatever demon was on top. For a few millenia that had been him, but after his absence (though it was only a blip in eternity) it was clear that that authority had shifted. 

“Oh no, no. Guys,” Bill laughed, “I  _ was  _ gone too long. But now I’m back and I’m not going anywhere.” It was subtle, but he saw Keyhole take the hint. The mice could play all they wanted, but now the cat was back. And cats are only interested in doing one thing to mice… tormenting them and tearing them to pieces.

Bill joined the Henchmaniacs in the circle they had formed around the three mortals. They were taking turns doling out punishment, a game of one-upmanship, each act more brutal than the last. Bill played along, watching the screaming mortal woman before them, imagining what it would be like if she was his Shooting Star. Of course, her body was less pleasing, older and less perfect, and she would not survive this party. They would eat her as a nightcap. But Bill couldn’t help thinking about Shooting Star, about owning her as he inevitably would, about the rush of power he would feel as he broke her, slowly, gradually chipping away at her sanity, at her strength. Her life would not be thrown away like this, dispassionately, to the cheers of a gang of interdimensional nightmares. Her suffering would be his to savor alone.

One of the mortals had expired, and Bill watched as Pyronica and Keyhole shared the body. Feeding each other, licking their lips and fingers with forked tongues and exchanging suggestive looks. To prove he didn’t care, he distracted himself with his turn. He ripped the genitals from the surviving mortal man and shoved them down his throat, careful to just let him survive. The mortal’s hands (both already broken and stripped of fingernails) clutched the seeping wound between his legs, choking, gasping for air to fuel his screams.

“Nice one, Bill,” Teeth cackled, chattering, smacking him on the back, genially.

Bill’s eye smiled at Teeth. These were still his friends. Even if he had been supplanted as leader, they were still his friends. When you spend forever spreading ruination with someone, it takes more than a short absence and some adultery to screw that up. After being trapped in that featureless void alone for so long, he was happy for the company. In his long time-out in that stone prison, he had had plenty of time to think. He’d decided that when he got out, he was going to lay off of the whole world domination thing for a while. He had all of eternity to keep trying and he could wait until all of the Zodiac mortals were dead and nothing stood in his way. Let them think he’d given up.  _ Yes,  _ he thought,  _ I’m going to just take a well-earned vacation. Have some fun. I work myself too hard anyway! _

After the games were over, the mortals all eaten and friends departing for their own dimensions. Pyronica approached him, “Bill, my monster, it’s been too long.” She purred, moving to follow him to his chamber. He knew it had disappeared in his absence, melting into the moldable clay of the mindscape. Bill tried not to let his eye belie his surprise at her proposition, with what he’d seen tonight, brazen even for a demon.

“Oh, Pyronica, old pal,” He said stonily, opening the door, “I’d love to invite you in but I’m afraid the door is locked.” He closed the door in her face, listening as she looked under the doorknob and saw no keyhole. She was about to ask through the door when she realized his jest. Bill heard her growl, but she stalked away, instead of breaking the door down. Bill sighed, they used to break each other’s doors and walls and malleable realities down all the time, it was a game, demons had to flirt somehow. She just didn’t want it enough.

Bill looked around, now that he was alone, turning red with rage. His chamber was a pale imitation of the penthouse he had had in the Fearamid. Practically the same, but devoid of all color except him. He felt useless; free but still trapped by nature, cuckolded, and a failure. He raised his arms and watched blue flames envelop the room. Growling, he’d lift a fist and throw whatever object materialized in the instant before he swung his arm. There was no telling how long his rampage lasted, particularly since the rules of linear time do not apply to the Mindscape, but finally his fury shifted. He stared down at the ruin of the mirror he had just created and destroyed. The blue flames began to recede, having done no damage to the grey furniture or walls. The wreckage of his tantrum vanished, except the mirror, tiny pieces glittering like sand or jewels, and larger fragments, jagged but still reflective. 

He stared at his reflection, the gleaming yellow strange in a sea of grey. He thought of Shooting Star, the horror on her face at his message on her misty mirror. Perhaps he’d pay her a visit. Nightmares had always been his specialty.


	5. Visitation

**** Exhausted from their Bigfoot expedition, the twins laid low that evening and the following day. Dipper had gone upstairs to read, and the last time Mabel had gone up there, he had been snoring with the book splayed open on his chest. Mabel smiled tenderly at Dipper, tears springing to her eyes. Her nerves were pretty raw.  _ No wonder he’s tired,  _ she thought, _ dying must take a lot outta you. _

There hadn’t been much in the way of Mystery Shack customers today, and Mabel had been sitting around with Grunkle Stan, watching old re-runs of ‘Ducktective’. He didn’t ask about their adventure and she volunteered no explanation. 

The marathon ended, and a different program came on. Mabel sat, transfixed by what she saw on the screen. It was some kind of reality show, although she couldn’t figure out what the objective of the game was. She was too confused by the contestants. Gideon Gleeful, her first high school boyfriend, Mark, and Mermando. Gideon was in his old child psychic get-up, which he hadn’t worn in years and Mermando was floating in a bathtub.

A disembodied voice was halfway through posing a question when Mabel began paying attention, “--best choice you’ve ever made?”

Mermando spoke first, his accent familiar and tantalizing, though she hadn’t heard it in years, “The best choice that I have ever made was trusting Mabel Pines when she helped to free me,” Mabel smiled. Then he continued talking, “If I had not worked with Mabel to get out of that pool, I certainly would have been trapped there forever, a captive of Mabel. Once she had helped me escape, I swam as far from her as I could, and ended up with the love of my life, the Manatee Princess.” Mabel was trying hard to process what she was hearing. She was shocked that Mermando thought so ill of her, especially since they had maintained a friendly correspondence long after he left.

“You said it, goofy gills, getting away from Mabel Pines was the best thing I ever did--” Gideon piped up.

“Wish someone had warned me,” Mark said, his tone bitter, running his hand through his hair the way she’d always liked, “Can’t believe I wasted a whole year on her. She was even my first kiss. Man, was I an idiot. And then she wouldn’t put out, no matter how much I--”

“Hiya, hambone,” Mabel looked up, surprised by Soos’s voice. She was grateful for a distraction from the strange tv program, but she had thought he was out of town with Melody.

“Soos!” Mabel happily cried, jumping up to give Soos a hug.

“Hey, do ya have a minute?” Soos asked. It seemed strange, but Mabel followed him into the kitchen without hesitation.

“What’s up?” She asked.

Soos looked nervous, “Well, Mabel… I think you should leave Gravity Falls.”

“What?!” Mabel’s mind was racing, trying to figure out what was going on. Did Soos somehow know about Bill Cipher? Was he trying to protect her?

“Oh, man,” Said Soos, taking off his hat to wipe sweat off the back of his neck, “This is awkward, dude, but we all kinda just want you to go home.” Mabel stared at Soos, uncomprehending, “I mean, Mr. Pines doesn’t want to say anything because you’re family and all, but we’d all be a lot happier if you went away.”

“Soos, what are y--”

“Sorry, hambone, you seem surprised,” Soos said, “We’ve been trying to give you a hint for years, but you were so mean, we were scared to confront you.” Mabel’s mind was racing a hundred miles a minute, trying to piece together what she was hearing. Her eyes were already overflowing with tears, “So, uhh, yeah. You should probably go.”

“But Dipper and I--”

“Oh, no, Dipper’s cool. We love Dipper,” Soos explained, “He’s a little weird in his own way, but at least he’s not stupid. He doesn’t go trusting any old demon that reaches out his hand.” As the last sentence was said, Mabel’s jaw dropped in horror, watching Soos’s flesh melt and fall away, crawling with maggots and roaches, revealing not a skeleton within, but Bill Cipher, flaming hand outstretched.

Mabel woke up yelping, curled up next to Stan’s armchair, his hand shaking her awake. ‘Ducktective’ was still playing on the television. Mabel was aware that Stan was saying something but was only just tuning in, “Mabel? Kiddo? What the heck kinda crazy dream were you having, pumpkin?” Mabel sat up and hugged her knees, embarrassed and yelling at herself internally for falling for such an obviously manipulative dream. “Mabel? You’re freakin’ me out.”

“I’m fine, Grunkle Stan,” Mabel lied, “What happened yesterday just must’ve messed me up more than I realized.”

Clearly, the statement was not lost on Bill, she heard his laugh again and this time, did not doubt that it was really him.


	6. Dream Demon

About a week passed and Dipper did not push the issue of exploring, even though there were still mysteries and anomalies of Gravity Falls that he wanted to see for himself. He was currently focused on one mystery in particular. His sister.

Mabel was not herself. The changes were subtle, and he doubted anyone but her twin would have noticed anything was off. She went about business as usual, harassing Waddles and Gompers with affection, scrap-booking, knitting, hanging out with Candy and Grenda when they had free time. However, something was off. She seemed anxious, even scared, taking on the habit of looking over her shoulder just a little more than necessary. She joked around hesitantly, not as spontaneous and wild as she always had been before. He caught her napping iduring the day more and more, which was unlike her. Mabel was usually the sort to get a good night’s sleep and fly through the day with boundless energy. 

In their shared room, he would stay awake to observe her, and see the obvious signs of nightmares. When he heard her whimpering and rolling around, tangling herself in the bedsheets, he never knew whether to wake her or not. Tonight, he still didn’t know what to think, but he watched her, frightened, forgoing his own rest trying to figure out how to protect his sister.

~~~

Bill Cipher knew Pine Tree was watching him play with Shooting Star, but it gave him a certain satisfaction seeing how he couldn’t seem to figure out what was going on. Considering he was supposedly the smart twin, Bill thought this was rather dense of him. Then again, the meatsack of a mortal foolishly believed that Bill had been annihilated, so he was not even considering that possibility.  _ Even a smart human is still a fool in the spectrum of consciousness. _

A particularly tasty scream drew Bill’s thoughts away from Pine Tree and back to Shooting Star. He had quickly gotten bored of building manipulative nightmares for Shooting Star. Though he got a kick out of fulfilling her worst fears about her loved ones, he was really too selfish to keep that up. He had finally started appearing to her more directly when she dreamed, and so far having great results.

Back in the dream he had built for Shooting Star, Weirdmageddon was at an all time peak. Insanity and darkness had swallowed Gravity Falls, and a series of convoluted horrors had brought Shooting Star to Bill’s Fearamid penthouse. She was in blue chains as her Great Uncle Sixer once had been.  _ Boy oh boy, do they look better on her. _ Bill thought, unabashedly pleased by her rounded, youthful human body. He thought having teeth and sinking them into her would be a treat.

“Leave me the hell alone, you three-sided jerk!!” Shooting Star was shouting, her voice a bit hoarse from her frustrated screams.

Bill laughed, “Oh, Shooting Star, you slay me! As if it’s that easy to shake me off.”

“You tricked me!” Shooting Star accused, tugging at her bonds.

“And you’re the silly meatbag who was surprised,” Bill countered, brushing a brown curl behind her ear.

She jerked away from his touch, “You’re a liar! We agreed on no loopholes, but then you--”

“No loophole!” Bill interrupted, growing annoyed with her semantics, “You agreed you were gonna keep your mind open to me. And here I am, enjoying the openness of your mind.”

“Fine!” Shooting Star snapped, childishly, “Not a loophole, but still a trick.”

Bill shrugged, willing to accept the title of trickster. He’d been on the receiving end of far worse. He summoned his cane, and leaned on it, watching her struggling against the chains. She was uneasy under his steady gaze, but he could watch her forever, imagining fun ways to break her. Well, maybe not forever, but at least until her body woke up.

“Stop looking at me like that!” She finally cried after a long silence.

“Like what, my dear little Star?”

“ _ Hungrily _ ,” she hissed, Then cocked her head to one side, inquisitively, “It’s weird. You’re a triangle, what could you even do with me?”

He laughed again, his signature cackle making her cringe. Though she looked more frightened when he abruptly stopped, “What a dumb question, Shooting Star. You’ve seen what I’m capable of. Besides,” he said, watching her react to his changing form, “I’m not always a triangle.”

Mabel didn’t seem to know what to think, her brown eyes traveling up and down the slim blonde man that stood before her, still leaning on his cane. She wondered if there was an eye under the swath of yellow hair that fell over half of his face, or was it just blank skin, or worse. He grinned. He loved when she had sick little thoughts without any intervention from him. He saw her eyes stuck on his sharp teeth and snapped them at her playfully. She winced. He walked around her, touching her body with his cane, her skin twitching and quivering under the impersonal touch.  _ How delicious. _ He lifted her chin with a nudge from the cane and slowly drew it down her body, between her breasts, along her stomach.

“What do you want from me?!” She sobbed, breaking her stubborn silence.

The end of his cane reached the spot where her thighs met, She shuddered, trying to pull away from the touch, his eye burned red and he pressed the cane hard against her, “I want to break you.”

~~~

Dipper was standing over Mabel about to shake her, when she woke with a start, sitting up and giving a yelp. Dipper jumped a little with surprise at the sudden movement.

“Mabel, are you okay?” He was about to lay his hand on her shoulder, but she flinched away from him, as if by reflex. He felt an ache in his chest. Was she afraid of him? “Mabel, it’s just me, Dipper.”

She blinked her tearful brown eyes impatiently, trying to adjust to the darkness and her brother, “Dipper…” She said with recognition. She grabbed him in a hug, pulling him down to sit on her bed with her. He caught that smell again, like in the forest, the spicy smoke and copper.

“You were just having a nightmare, Mabes, it’s okay now.” he said, giving her back a few pats.

“No, it’s not,” she murmured against his shoulder, hopelessly.

He held her away at arm’s length, “Mabel, what’s going on? Are you in trouble?”

She looked back at him. In the moonlight, he could see how dark the bags under her eyes were, how anxious and tight her lips, and she moved them, considering speaking. Finally she replied, in a soft voice, “No, Dip, I’m not in trouble. Just a hecka bad dream, like you said…”

“Mabel…” She pulled away from him, excusing herself to get a glass of water. He sighed heavily as she left.  _ What’s so bad that she can’t even tell me? _

He reluctantly got up and crossed the short distance to his own bed. He was so weary, he fell asleep almost instantly, though he wanted to stay up at least till Mabel was back. It was a few minutes until she walked back in, having had a glass of water and a brisk cry, to the room where her beloved twin slept. She hated pushing him away, but didn’t want to endanger him. As she padded back to her bed, she tried to ignore the moon outside the triangular window, gleaming with a cold, yellow light.


	7. Team Meetings

“Okay,” Dipper said, standing in the Mystery Shack kitchen, “Thank you both for coming.”

Stan and Ford both sat at the kitchen table, waiting to see why Dipper had called an emergency family meeting. A chair at the table was still empty. Stan pointed a thumb at the chair, “Aren’t we gonna wait for your sister?”

“No,” Dipper sighed, “Because she’s the reason we’re here.”

Stan and Ford exchanged a look. Unsure, but curious. Despite their differences, they both loved their great niece and nephew unconditionally.

“Mabel?” Ford said, “Is there cause for concern?”

Dipper concealed his shock,  _ how could anyone not see it? _ But he’d expected this, “Yes Grunkle Ford,” he said, “I’m not surprised you didn’t see it, you don’t know her that well even now, but there is definitely something up.”

Stan nodded thoughtfully, “Hrrm,” He grumbled, “I guess she has been a little jumpy.”

Dipper nodded, “I’ve been trying to figure out what’s happened to her. She has nightmares every night and she won’t talk to me about anything  _ real  _ anymore,” his voice strained a little with emotion, “We’ve always talked to each other about everything.”

Stan and Ford exchanged another look, a bit sheepishly this time, no doubt thinking about the rift they were still mending in their own relationship. Ford’s brow furrowed, “That does sound unlike Mabel. And the nightmares concern me. It may seem innocuous, but dreams can be more than they appear.”

“They scare me, too,” Dipper agreed, “Anyway, I was wondering if you two had any ideas as to how we can help her?”

“I don’t know, Dipper,” Stan said, gingerly, “I don’t wanna be the skeptic, but, well, I’m skeptical.”

“You said yourself that she’s acting strange, Stanley,” Ford reminded him.

“No, I said she was  _ jumpy _ ,” Stan corrected, a little miffed by the correction, “Know what can make people jumpy? Just about anything. Having a secret, having a hangover, being anxious, heck, just being fifteen. I’m not saying you’re wrong to be concerned, I just don’t want you nerds jumping to conclusions.”

Ford and Dipper’s eyes met and Dipper said, “Message received. I don’t want to jump to conclusions, either. I just want your help figuring it out.”

“You two probably just need to spend some quality time together,” Stan said, “You two haven’t gone on any adventures or what-have-you since that one day when you both got all messed up. Maybe you should go on one of your Mystery Kids adventures, or whatever.”

Ford looked concerned, clearly wanting to know about that day. Stan probably did, too. Dipper didn’t know what to tell them, though. He’d been thinking about their brush with Bigfoot quite a bit himself. It all seemed a bit off. He remembered some of it clearly, but none of it seemed to make sense, since he hadn’t been injured. He wasn’t sure how much of that day he’d imagined and what had really happened. Maybe retracing their steps a bit would bring something to light. 

~~~

Mabel was sitting cross-legged on her bed with a notebook. The pages were pink and faintly bubblegum scented, which seemed ludicrously wrong compared to what she was doing. She was trying to remember Bill Cipher’s zodiac wheel, the one they had tried to use against him during Weirdmageddon. She remembered everyone involved, but couldn’t remember the symbol that corresponded with each. What was Wendy’s? An axe? Were the glasses Grunkle Ford or McGucket? Try as she may, she couldn’t seem to remember. She wished she could just ask Dipper or Ford, but that would mean explaining why. 

_ This will never work, _ she thought,  _ Even if I figure them all out, I’d have to get them all in one place. And I’d have to tell them eventually. We’d never succeed. _

“Aww, Shooting Star,” came the maddening voice in her ear, “Don’t be discouraged.” 

Mabel stiffened.  _ This is bad,  _ she thought. She hastily hid the notebook under her pillow, feeling like a child caught breaking the rules.  _ I guess I kinda am breaking the rules… _

“That’s right, Shooting Star, good girl,” The menacing voice said. With a snap, Mabel anxiously watched the color bleed away from everything, feeling her heart pounding, “And what happens when you break the rules?”

“I...I don’t know…” She said softly.

Her whole vision was suddenly filled with Bill Cipher, his eye inches from her face, scowling, “Yes, ya do, Star. What happens?”

“I...I get punished…?” 

The yellow triangle drew away from her face by a couple feet, his stern demeanor dissolved and he laughed, “Attagirl. Now what was it you were doing?”

“N-nothing,” Mabel insisted. She was trying not to meet his eye, but everywhere she glanced, he appeared. She finally shut her eyes.

“That's funny! I know I only have one eye, but this doesn’t look like nothing,” He said flatly. She peeked with one eye, to see her notebook, grey now like every inanimate thing in the mindscape, floating by Bill’s pointing finger. She swallowed the lump of fear lodged in her throat, her crudely drawn cipher wheel staring back at her. Bill sighed, letting the notebook fall limply to the floor, “I’ve been pretty generous with ya, Star, doncha think?”

_ No, _ she thought, immediately, defiantly, forcing herself to murmur the opposite.

“And you call me a liar!” He seemed to grin. Strange how he could do that with only an eye, “Shooting Star, you agreed to keep your mind open to me. Were you considering breaking our deal?” Her eyes shot to him, almost hoping that he was going to free her. He laughed cruelly as he read her thoughts, “You’re too much, Star! A deal’s a deal. I held up my end, but if you don’t hold up yours…” He looked towards the door of the attic bedroom. It opened and Dipper walked in, grey from head to toe. He looked so real, Mabel had to remind herself he was only an illusion of the mindscape. The imitation-Dipper said in Bill’s voice, “Why did you betray me, dear sister?” and fell unceremoniously to the floor. It was crude enough to almost be funny, until the blood started seeping, pouring from every orifice, his mouth, his ears, weeping from his eyes, until his entire body was flat like a popped balloon, and the carpet was soaked with blood.

“Please, Bill, don’t hurt him…” Mabel said quietly, watching the imitation-Dipper fade away. Bill liked the sound of her saying his name. She didn’t do it often.

“If you don’t hurt me, I won’t hurt him,” He said simply, before tipping his hat and returning her to her own dimension, “See ya later for your punishment!”


	8. Oh, Brother

“So broski, where exactly are we going?” Mabel asked, “What are we looking for?”

“Nothing specific,” Dipper replied, walking through the woods beside her, “But, hey, it’s Gravity Falls. When have we ever gone for a walk without something crazy happening?”

“You got me there, bro-bro,” Mabel said, with a hint of her old perkiness, “You got me there.”

Dipper gave his sister a surreptitious sidelong glance. She hadn’t commented on the fact that they were re-tracing the same steps they had taken the day they had seen Bigfoot. Maybe she hadn’t noticed? He had been surprised how readily she agreed to go on a walk with him. Maybe it helped that he hadn’t called it mystery-hunting or an adventure, but just a normal walk. She had smiled at him genuinely, as if she was really grateful for the invitation. _Since when do I have to expressly invite her to do anything?_ , Dipper wondered, _Does she think I don’t want to hang out with her or something?_

“It feels good to be out here,” Mabel said, spreading her arms and taking in the temperate breeze. She looked him in the eyes, “It feels good to just hang out.”

“Maybe we’ve spent too much time cooped up in the Mystery Shack?” Dipper suggested, casually, “Something’s been weird lately.” He pretended not to see Mabel glance away from him guiltily.

“I know, bro. I’m sorry I…” she hesitated, then rushed, “Sorry, I’ve been so weird lately”

“Mabel,” Dipper said, raising his eyes to meet hers. But she evaded his gaze, “You have been weird lately.”

“Blaah, I’m always weird, right?” She chirped, trying to fake her normal silliness.

“Mabel…” He clearly wasn’t fooled.

“Please, drop it, Dipper,” Mabel said, walking a little faster.

“Mabel! Sis, please!” He begged, his heart in his throat, “What is it that’s so bad you can’t tell me? You know you can talk to me about anything.”

“I know, I know, Dipper,” Mabel said through gritted teeth, “Please, drop it. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Aha!” Dipper cried, unable to help himself. Finally, validation to the suspicion he’d been carrying for weeks now. The words came tumbling out, eager and relentless, “Then you admit there’s something to talk about!! Mabel, c’mon! It’s me, your brother! There’s nothing you can’t tell me! What is it? Is it some guy? You know I’ll break his neck if he hurt--”

“I said, DROP IT, Pine Tree!” Mabel snapped, whirling around to face him, her voice harsh and shrill like he’d never heard it.

He stared at her dumbfounded, hearing the words echo in his skull, _Pine Tree...Pine Tree... Pine Tree…_ She had her hand over her mouth, as if trying in vain to push the words back, her eyes wide and skittish, like a deer in headlights.

“Wh-what did you call me…?” Dipper asked, softly. He had only ever been called that by one person. No, person was too kind a word. Wanting to forget, wanting to unhear it, hoping she’d insist that he imagined it. She stared at him for a second, looking guilty and frightened. He reached his hand towards her, but before he touched her, she turned on her heel and ran.

Dipper gave chase, his mind running ahead of him, trains of thought intersecting and crashing together at one destination. _Nightmares...Pine Tree...Bigfoot...Pine Tree..._ There was a stale urine scent in the air, and Dipper knew they must be back in Bigfoot’s territory. _Pine Tree...Pine Tree…_ His mind was poking at that day, like a tongue at a sore tooth, he needed to know what really happened. _Pine Tree...Shooting Star… Bill Cipher._ He didn’t want to believe it, couldn’t believe it. His lungs were starting to burn from running, watching Mabel’s back and swishing hair not far ahead of him. His stomach lurched as he saw her trip and fall, face down.

He skidded to a halt at her side, falling to his knees to see if she was okay. She was lying there, face in the dirt, sobbing uncontrollably. Dipper cautiously touched her shoulder, worried that she would flinch away, but she softened under his touch. She pulled herself up and crawled into his arms, body racked with tears. Dipper’s thoughts were still racing, his sister’s cries tearing at his heart, “Mabel,” he said, gently, petting her hair, “What’s going on?”

She raised her head, looking up at him. Her dirty face was awash with tears and snot, her eyes found his and in a very soft voice, she confirmed his worst fears, “...Bill Cipher.”

“Well, well, well, well, well, well, well!” The moment his name left her lips, the demon appeared, sucking the color from the beautiful July day, “Isn’t this _cute?_ ”

 


	9. Answers

_Finally_ , Bill thought, _a little progress._ He was surprised how long Shooting Star managed to conceal the reality of their deal from Pine Tree. At first he’d perceived it as a sign that the twins had grown apart, until he realized it was a result of how close they actually were, that she would fight so hard to protect her brother. _Nauseating._ But here they were, and now things were going to get interesting. He felt sure that before they left this spot, a new deal would be settled. A better deal, higher stakes. They were back in the same spot, the site of his imprisonment. He could feel the waves of vivid emotion rolling off of Pine Tree, _Fear, betrayal, disbelief, rage. Some of my favorites._

“How is this possible…?” Pine Tree asked, “You’re dead!”

Bill laughed, “Well, depends whose definition, Pine Tree. By human standards, I was never alive to begin with! It's all a matter of perspective.”

“This makes no sense…” Pine Tree looked down at Shooting Star, slumped weakly in his lap, “Mabel, what’s going on? What did you do?”

“Tsk tsk, Pine Tree, didn’t pin you as an ingrate,” Bill tutted, delighted condescension dripping from his voice.

“ ‘Ingrate’? Ungrateful for what?” Pine Tree saw Bill eyeing Shooting Star and the proverbial light bulb illuminated. Suddenly he was asking his sister, “Ungrateful for what? Mabel, should I be grateful for something?” The girl said nothing, and Pine Tree looked again to Bill angrily, “Let her talk!”

That made Bill laugh with genuine surprise, “Oh, little Pine Tree, I'm flattered but I ain’t stopping her! Go ahead, Star, tell your precious brother about our deal.”

Pine Tree stiffened at the word ‘deal’, aware that that could only lead to trouble. _Not a total dummy._ “Mabel?” He pleaded, “You made a deal with Bill?!”

~~~

Mabel blinked hard before meeting her brother’s eyes, desperately seeking an answer. She nodded stiffly and watched his face fall, disheartened already.

“What… what was the deal, Mabel?” He asked.

Bill hovered down closer to them, wanting a front row seat to the melodrama unfolding, to which he was central. _His favorite kind,_ Mabel thought coldly. She met Dipper’s eyes again. She took a deep breath and prepared herself to tell him what he had needed to know for what seemed like ages, “It was for you, Dipper. I saved you. The day we tracked Bigfoot down, I… I know you don’t remember it too well.” Dipper nodded, holding his breath, “Well… Bigfoot, he… he _killed_ you. He threw you around. Y-you tried to save me, but you… you were injured so badly… bloody and broken and--”

“It was great!” Bill cut in. They both glared daggers at him, “Not ‘cause you were dead, although, Pine Tree, take it from me, you were seriously messed up. But you also released meee!” Dipper’s face twisted, perplexed, “Don’t believe me? Looky here!” He appeared above the strange, pointed rock, familiar to Mabel, “This is the very spot in the woods where you fought that dumb galoot! Well, not so much ‘fought’ as got brutally savaged by, but whatever. And this right here,” he gestured to the stone, “Is no ordinary rock!” With a flourish of his hand, blue flames engulfed the stone, burning off the plants that obscured it, revealing Bill’s own visage etched in stone, like a statue.

Dipper’s mouth was slightly agape, his brows knit in thought, trying to fit everything together. Mabel picked up the story again, “Bigfoot threw you and you hit Bill’s body… uhm, rock… prison, thingy. When we thought we destroyed him, in Grunkle Stan’s mind, well… we didn’t. He escaped to his body, but when he got there, the rift had already been mended and he was trapped.” She glanced at the demon, leaning jauntily against his own remains, “When your body hit it… it broke. Just a bit, but enough to free him. You were lying there… d-dying… and he appeared… and--”

“And you made a deal.” Dipper completed her sentence for her, “To bring me back.” Mabel nodded, the tears running freely down her face, “Auughh god… Mabel… what did you give him?”

“Don’t worry, Pine Tree! I’ve been a perfect gentleman!” Bill insisted, receiving a look that clearly stated that Dipper did not believe that possible, “Shooting Star just misunderstood the terms of our agreement.”

Mabel shook her head, “I didn’t misunderstand! He tricked me. He said he already owed us a favor for freeing him, and as we shook hands, he told me to have an open mind. I… I didn’t know that was the deal or what it meant but--”

“But he’s had free reign of your mind,” Dipper growled, letting go of Mabel and getting to his feet, eyes on Bill, “tormenting you with nightmares and commentary and pulling you away from me and making you miserable.”

“Ah, there you go, Pine Tree!” Bill praised, “A little slow on the uptake but you got there alright.”

“You son of a bitch…” Dipper snarled, “I’ll end you this time.”

Bill responded with his usual laugh, “You’re adorable, Pine Tree. I think I’m gonna enjoy this.”

 


	10. Revision

Mabel watched, petrified, as Dipper braced himself for a fight he couldn’t possibly win and Bill laughed maniacally, shifting between various nightmarish forms, as if too giddy to choose. Finally, with the suddenness of a cobra, with no warning, Bill unleashed a hail of small triangular knives at Dipper, tearing clean straight lines in his clothes and cutting straight red lines on his face. One lodged in his left shoulder and he grimaced at the pain.

“Dipper! Don’t do this!” Mabel cried, springing to her feet at the sight of her brother in pain.

She rushed to him, but with a wave of his hand, Bill threw her back, “No, Shooting Star.” he ordered firmly.

“I have to, Mabel, I’m not letting you live in the palm of his hand!” Dipper earnestly replied.

“Gosh, what a guy!” Bill cheered mockingly, “What a hero!” he reached out his arm and grabbed Dipper by his hair, swinging his body happily against his own stone face, “What fun we're having!”

Mabel ran to her brother again, her stomach turning with deja vu, seeing him crumpled against the stone copy of Bill, “Dipper! This is suicide!”

Dipper met her eyes, blood dribbling from his nose, “You’d do the same”

“Outta the way, Shooting Star,” Bill said, lazily waving a mean-looking axe, “My altar hasn’t gotten a sacrifice in way too long.”

Without thinking, Mabel shielded her brother’s body with her own, staring up at Bill boldly, “But...you brought him back to life!”

Bill shrugged, “I giveth and I taketh away.” he laughed at his own joke, but she didn’t crack a smile, “Besides, that was a job, not out of goodwill. You mighta noticed I don’t have a whole lot of that lyin' around!” Mabel didn’t budge. Bill’s body grew red and his eye black, “Shooting Star, I asked you nicely. Move the hell over before I do it for you.”

Dipper pushed at Mabel’s back, trapped, trying to save his sister from trying to save him, “Mabel, Mabel, please! Please, move! Don’t be stupid! Don’t--”

“I want a new deal!” She declared. She heard Dipper groan in defeat behind her, and watched Bill return to his normal yellow.

“I’m listening,” he said, urging her to go on.

“Let my brother go,” Mabel said simply, “Let him out of the mindscape without harming him.”

Bill’s eye flashed red for an instant, imperceptible almost, irritated that he may be deprived of this so-called sacrifice, “And whatta I get in return for this act of generosity?”

“Anything you want from me.” Mabel said, her strong voice faltering. Dipper grabbed her hand in his, having gotten to his feet behind her. She clutched his hand.

~~~

Bill had expected a new deal, hoped for one, even, but this was a surprise even to him. He looked down at Shooting Star, standing tall, trying to hide the fact that she was shaking. He couldn’t believe she had offered him ‘anything’ so readily. Most mortals didn’t try that one until after at least a little bit of torture, or as a last resort to save themselves from death. _She is full of surprises,_ he thought, “Be mine,” he said. He saw in their minds the romantic connotation that the silly humans had and reiterated, “Belong to me. I will own you.”

Shooting Star hesitated. Her brother protested, but Bill only needed one of them to shake his hand. Finally, she nodded, “You’ll own me.” she repeated

“Mabel, are you crazy!? You can’t do this, you--” Bill snapped his fingers and a gag appeared in the young man’s mouth. He started fumbling to undo it, but Bill had intended for it to stay until he released Pine Tree back to the third dimension, and it wouldn’t move an instant sooner.

“You will be mine, to use however I want.” Bill said, clarifying the terms of a deal for once. After a few millenia, he was a little weary of arguing semantics.

“Except as a puppet,” Shooting Star edited, suddenly, “You can use me however you want, except to possess my body as a puppet.”

“Okay,” Bill agreed grudgingly, “You’ll be mine for use as anything other than a puppet. And in return, I won’t harm Pine Tree.”

“Not now, or ever.” Shooting Star insisted.

He stared down at her for a moment. _Did I really underestimate her so much? She seems like she knows what she’s doing all of a sudden._ He reached out his hand, “Sheesh, you run a hard bargain, Shooting Star… Not now, or ever.” Shooting Star took a step towards him, lifting her hand shakily. Pine Tree lurched forward, trying to throw himself between them, but Bill easily brushed him off. He fell and skidded several feet, watching helplessly and moaning against his gag as his sister shook Bill’s hand.

“I love you, Dipper.” Shooting Star quickly said to her brother, “I’m sorry I--” Bill snapped his fingers and she disappeared from the mindscape. Dipper screamed against his gag, staring at the empty space where she had stood an instant before.

Bill swooped into his line of vision, cackling, watching him struggle to his feet and look around for her, “Later, Pine Tree,” Bill said, with an insultingly harmless pat on the shoulder, “I have a new toy that needs to be broken in.” Dipper materialized back in the woods, his desperate screams no longer muffled by a gag.

 


	11. Henchmania

Mabel fell to her hands and knees, head reeling. Her stomach was coiling and bile was threatening the back of her tongue. Wherever she was, transporting there had not been comfortable. She opened her eyes, looking down at her hands, seeming very pink against the colorless grey of the floor. _I’m still in the mindscape._ She thought, _Oookay, probably shoulda realized that._

“Hey, guys! Look at this!” A strange voice announced, “Looks like Bill sent us a toy!”

Mabel looked up, panicked. She sat up, knees bent under her, trying to process what she saw. This didn’t look quite like the throne room of the Fearamid, but she could tell it was built by the same architects. It was cold and austere, high ceilings that receded into darkness, large hearths full of cool blue flames, and many windows, of all sizes and shapes, that looked impossibly into different locations in different dimensions. She suspected that behind her, she’d find windows that looked at the Mystery Shack. Before her were a gang of demons she had hoped to never see again outside her nightmares. The one who had spoken was the strange little square, like a protractor, who was not unlike Bill in appearance. She wondered for an instant if they were related.

The strange keyhole-shaped one spoke next, voice dry, “I doubt that, Kryptos,” he said, “Haven’t you noticed Cipher’s been acting a bit more peculiar lately?” The other Henchmaniacs nodded in agreement, and Mabel wondered how Bill being more peculiar than usual was even possible.

“Well, maybe this is an apology!” the teeth chattered, his voice making Mabel shudder, “A peace offering!”

“Bill hates peace, honey,” The one-eyed woman said, the fires at her arms and legs seeming to burn brighter. The others murmured in agreement.

“Well, what the hell is it doing here then, Pyronica?” The keyhole asked, glaring at the beast apparently called Pyronica with what almost looked to Mabel like...jealousy?

“I don’t know, Keyhole,” Pyronica droned lazily, her voice hypnotic and smooth. She turned her one eye to Mabel, the gaze intent, “Why don’t we ask it?”

Mabel froze as the demons all turned their eyes away from each other and back to her. They towered over her, and she felt tiny, like a speck, like a child, like a dumb animal. Her mind was overwhelmed by the knowledge that they had existed longer than she could imagine, and killed more people than she had ever met.

“Looks like he already ate its tongue,” Kryptos said, disappointed. Mabel blanched, _he eats tongues?_

“No, he didn’t,” Pyronica said, her eye never leaving Mabel, “It’s scared.” Mabel was confused, there was no compassion in the voice but it seemed to be defending her.

“Fear usually makes them talk,” the one with 8-Balls for eyes said, as if posing a well-documented study of his.

“Not always!” Pyronica snapped, her eye glowing green. _Is that like Bill turning red?_ Mabel wondered. Pyronica continued talking, her voice icy, “Every mortal is different, 8-Ball. Besides,” A sick grin twisted her mouth, revealing the jagged teeth, “This one just isn’t scared enough.” In a flash, the monsters jumped into action. Suddenly, 8-Ball was holding her off the ground, her hands held in one fist and her feet in another. The rest of the Henchmaniacs stood before her, at attention, ready to play.

“...please…” Mabel managed to squeak, her plea met with a chorus of harsh laughs.

“See? I knew it had a tongue,” Pyronica crossed her arms smugly, “Didn’t know it would be quite that easy to get it wagging.”

Suddenly, Mabel’s head was full of pain and she cried out. She tried to look behind her, to see her hair in Teeth’s mouth, as he tugged steadily. She tried to push him off with her arms, but 8-Ball’s hold on her was secure. The monsters laughed at her struggle. Keyhole stepped forward a little, eyes lit with delight, “Why are you here?” he asked her simply.

Mabel gulped down a sob and managed to force out the words, “...I...made a deal…”

The Henchmaniacs laughed. “Classic Bill.” one of them said. “You’d think they’d learn.” another said. But Keyhole’s face remained stony, and did not react to her admission. Then his mouth slowly curled into a menacing smile, “Well, if you made a deal with Cipher, and he sent you here, you’re already as good as dead.” The words sent a chill through Mabel’s body, leaving her shivering, the pain in her scalp warm and tingly. She closed her eyes, trying to lose herself in the comforting waves of that pain.

She felt a hand touch her hip gently and opened her eyes. It was Pyronica’s hand, wreathed in eerie white flames. Mabel had the briefest moment to wonder if they were like Bill’s blue flames, which felt cool to the touch, before the searing proof that they were not. In an instant, her clothes were consumed by the brilliant white fire, her skin felt as though it were bursting in agony. A deep, forbidden part of her ignited, drinking in the pain thirstily, creating a pool of longing behind her hips. She heard screaming, and realized it was her own voice, torn from her involuntarily.

“ _STOP BEFORE I END YOU!_ ” A voice roared suddenly, resounding in both Mabel’s mind and her ears. It was the first time in her life she had ever been relieved to hear Bill’s voice.

 


	12. Your Keeper

Bill could hardly believe his eye. Even with all his experience, he could still never be sure how the timelines of different dimensions and different levels of the mindscape would align. In the level of the mindscape where he had just bid Pine Tree a fond farewell, only a minute had seemed to pass between him transporting Shooting Star and transporting himself. And yet, it was apparent from the scene before him that more than a minute had passed here.

“Oh, hello there, Cipher,” Keyhole said, his voice like stone, “We were just getting acquainted with your new toy.” Bill could feel himself burning a deep red, and felt as if smoke must be rising from him.

“RELEASE HER,” was his simple command. 8-Ball dropped her obediently, and for an instant Teeth was holding her weight solely by her hair, warranting a shriek, before he released her, too. Shooting Star crumpled to the floor in a heap, the embers of her clothes cooling to dull ashes. The Henchmaniacs still stood between Bill and Shooting Star and for a moment no one moved, except Shooting Star’s shoulders heaving with sobs. Bill felt an ache within him at the sound of her crying, livid that anyone else had touched her, “Move aside.” Bill demanded.

“You’re not going to share, my monster?” Pyronica cooed, her voice gentle and yet hard.

“Yeah!” Teeth chattered, “You going to keep a nice little morsel like this for yourself?”

“Yes,” Bill growled, impatient, “I am.”

It was another moment before 8-Ball turned and walked away, the first to give up. Then Kryptos and Teeth. _They are wise to fear my wrath,_ Bill thought, his figurative blood boiling. Keyhole and Pyronica stood between him and Shooting Star for a moment longer, defiant. “Fine,” Pyronica said with a roll of her eye, slinking away. Keyhole gave Bill a hard glare before walking away with a theatrical sweep of his arm, presenting the prize of the terrified mortal behind him. Bill extended his hand down to Shooting Star and laid it on her shivering shoulder for an instant before she shook him off. An instant was all he needed.

~~~

Mabel threw Bill’s hand off of her, as she felt her stomach lurch again. This time it was too much, as she choked up some vomit, spitting in distaste. It disappeared instantly upon touching the sleek black silk beneath her. Mabel looked up fearfully at Bill. She was surprised to see him in the human form she had only seen once or twice. He was hovering a few inches from the ground, about a foot away from her, his eye watching intently. She didn’t see any red, but maybe it was harder to tell when this form was angry. She looked around at her surroundings, at what she realized incredulously must be Bill’s bedroom, _so this is where the enemy sleeps_. The thought came unannounced, automatically, wryly. Her eyes shot to him again, to see if the thought had angered him, but his face was still passive, looking curious and intent. If anything, she could imagine that she saw the shadow of a smile flit across the well-formed lips.

Mabel tore her eyes away from him. Sitting up, she covered herself shyly with her hands. Though the fire hadn't done any damage to her body, her clothes were in tatters and she felt exposed. _Modesty is kinda wasted effort,_ she thought to herself, _He’s gonna do what he wants to me either way._ Still, she kept her hands crossed over her breasts. She looked around the room again. Never had she tried to imagine Bill Cipher’s bedroom, but if she had, this is what she would have expected. Much like the Fearamid or the room she had arrived it, it balanced on the boundary between lavish and austere. The walls were mostly bare, with the appearance of flocked velvet wallpaper with a subtle and intricate design of interlocking triangles. There were triangular windows, which emitted a cool otherworldly light, akin to ultraviolet. There were gleaming hardwood floors, without a single scuff. _Well,_ Mabel thought, _everyone here can either float or doesn’t last very long._ She was on the bed, which gave her a passing cringe of nausea. It was a huge bed shaped like a triangle, _of course, his vanity knows no bounds._ It was covered in immaculate black silk sheets and a generous assortment of pillows, “Do demons sleep?” Mabel blurted out, randomly, breaking the tense silence.

Bill laughed, his anger gone. His laugh still sent a shiver down her spine, “No, Shooting Star, demons don’t sleep. Just another way we surpass you guys. We can, but we rarely do.” a smile flickered across his face, “That’s not what I use the bed for.”

“Oh,” Mabel said, wishing she hadn’t asked. Her heart was pounding and she closed her eyes, focusing on the pain in her scalp to calm her.

~~~

 _There it is again,_ Bill thought, watching Shooting Star’s mind in fascination. She was reveling in the pain, calming herself with it, meditating on it. He had thought she was doing that as Pyronica’s fire scorched her clothes, but in the storm of emotions from himself and the Henchmaniacs, it had been impossible to tell. A grin spread across the lips he didn’t usually sport, _How did I get lucky enough to get a masochist for a pet?_

He snapped his fingers and a collar appeared on her neck. It was simple and yellow, another spot of color in the drab of the mindscape, the front inset with a triangular lock. The instant it appeared, her hands grabbed at it, tugging and scratching in vain. His eye hungrily settled on her breasts, no longer hidden by her modest hands. Shooting Star felt his gaze and quickly covered herself with a silk sheet from the bed. Bill laughed, “Have it your way, Shooting Star,” he said, and she cringed, squeezing her eyes shut in anticipation of his attack. But he did nothing. He actually wasn't being sarcastic. He had a lot to think about.

“B-Bill…?” she said, confused and more frightened by his inaction.

“Yes, Shooting Star?”

“What are you waiting for?” She asked, voice trembling but strong, “I’m here, I’m yours. Aren’t you going to... eat my tongue or something?”

“Eat your tongue?” He repeated, _where had she gotten that notion?_ “Sheesh, kid, I knew you had an imagination, but I’m impressed! But no, not tonight at least. If I eat your tongue, then we couldn’t have such fun little chats.” She stared at him, awaiting some kind of answer. He sighed and transported himself to the bed beside her. She flinched away from him and for some reason, he wished she wasn’t so afraid of him. He reclined on his back, belly up, the inter-dimensional species-spanning attitude of submission, “Shooting Star, you’re mine now. You’re my pet.” Her fingers tightened against the collar, understanding its significance, “My friends aren’t gonna understand this. They trick and capture humans for sport, eat ‘em, torture ‘em, share ‘em. And I've had my fun playing that game, let me tell ya,” His eye glinted with memories of eons of victims. She shuddered, “But I was their leader because I _evolved_.”

Shooting Star sat up a little straighter, her head tilted curiously, and he could see the questions flitting through her mind, _Oh god they hunt humans…_ _ **was**_ _their leader? Not anymore?... Evolved?_

“Yes, Shooting Star, I evolved. While they kept on playing the same game, snatching mortals to flay and break, I got bored. That was too easy! So, just as when I liberated the Second Dimension, ending that flat world full of flat minds, I sought a new game, an even harder game to win.”

“That’s where the deals came in…” Shooting Star said, her brown eyes glittering with comprehension.

“You got it,” He said, pleased, “That’s when I built rules for myself. Being an all powerful inter-dimensional being requires a lot more finesse when you need your victims to agree to their punishment and shake your hand!” It seemed that Shooting Star smiled for a second before catching herself. It surprised Bill as much as it surprised her, “Shooting Star, you belong to me. And I am your keeper.”

Her eyes filled with tears, “I know.” _This is torture,_ he heard her think, _waiting to see what he even wants from me… he shoulda just let them kill me._

Bill had been fighting with a strange feeling, threatening his resolve. He had felt an inexplicable urge to protect Shooting Star. To inform her, to earn her trust. But hearing that thought burned his compassion away in a fit of rage. _Oh right_ , he remembered, _humans are terrible friends._ He sprang out of his submissive stance, his hands and legs pinning her down beneath him. Her face faltered, trying to comprehend the sudden shift in his behavior, “Torture?” he hissed, “Is that what you want?” chains shot out from the corners of the bed, one corner restraining both wrists, the others restraining an ankle each. His cane materialized in his hand, shrinking thinner and thinner to make it better suited to strike her. She started to protest, and he covered her mouth, “Oh be quiet, Shooting Star, I think you’re gonna like this even more than I will.”

 


	13. Family Matters

Dipper did not feel the branches that whipped against his face as he bounded clumsily through the forest. His right hand was clutching his left shoulder, which burned and throbbed from the wound Bill’s knife has inflicted. Hot angry tears splashed down Dipper’s face and he muttered under his breath, “Stupid-stupid-stupid-stupid-stupid.” His teeth were gritted, his lungs burned, and his ankles ached from tripping and stumbling over the uneven ground.

 _How could I be such an idiot-idiot-idiot-idiot?_ His mind was beating itself in a frenzy of anger and disbelief, _I wake up from a dangerous fight with no memory and Mabel starts having nightmares and acting strange? Of course that’s fucking Bill Cipher-Bill Cipher-Bill Cipher!_

His thoughts kept re-playing Mabel saving him, for the _second_ time, and he felt the void in his core groan with the feeling of uselessness. _I’m her brother, I should be protecting her, not letting her sacrifice herself._ Dipper’s throat was raw from the screams he had unleashed as he snapped back to the real world, no longer gagged, his sister gone, “Stupid-stupid-stupid.”

For all he knew, she was already gone. His mind filled with dark thoughts, all the horrible things he had seen Bill do. Nightmarish creatures, roaring fires, darkness and dissonance and echoing all through it, _that laugh._ His own arms were scarred from Bill’s abuse when they had made their deal years ago. Dipper felt trapped by this dimension, helpless, while Mabel was somewhere at Bill Cipher’s mercy, _dismembered, raped, blinded, crying, crying, crying, crying._ Dipper could no longer bear it, a scream ripped its way out of his ragged throat, the sound of a wild animal in pain. He fell, unsure whether his legs gave out or he gave up, his hands going to his face, ready to tear at his hair and claw at his skin.

“Dipper! Kid, what the heck’s goin' on!?” rough hands pulled him to his feet by the back of his shirt, and pulled his hands from his tear-drenched face. He blinked at Grunkle Stan, uncomprehending. He hadn't realized he had already been so close to the Mystery Shack. Stan looked away from Dipper for a second, “Where’s your sister?” He asked, Dipper’s sob an answer unto itself.

At first he had had to practically drag Dipper along, the boy clearly too in shock to function. Eventually, Dipper’s feet found their way again, mechanically lifting and finding the ground, keeping pace with his uncle adequately. They came to a small structure in the woods, inconspicuous, built mostly of particle wood and corrugated aluminum. Stan opened the door, pushed Dipper inside and followed him, shutting the door again behind him.

It was very dark inside after the brilliant sun of the July afternoon, but Stan easily found what he was looking for on the wall. He lifted a piece of paper of some kind, looked like a Gravity Falls postcard, and pressed a few buttons on the keypad underneath. With a sickening suddenness, the floor dropped beneath them and they started descending. Dipper’s maddened tears did not abate but within he was putting together the hints and realizing where he was. With a sharp jolt, they halted, and Dipper’s suspicions were confirmed. They were standing at the entrance to Grunkle Ford’s old labs, the basement of the original Mystery Shack. He had always wondered if these rooms remained intact.

“HEY, FORD!” Stan shouted, a hint of panic in his voice, “POINDEXTER, WE GOT A SITUATION! STANFORD! STA--”

“Okay, okay, quit yelling!” Ford exclaimed, rushing into the room, “Stanley, what the--” his eyes fell on his great nephew before he could finish his question, “Oh, dear.”

He led them into one of the inner rooms and ushered them both onto a raggedy blue sofa. He started digging through desk drawers and a cabinet, without saying anything else. Stan sat on the sofa, watching Dipper’s unrelenting hysterics. After a minute, he couldn’t take it, “Dammit, IQ! Aren’t you gonna say anything?!”

“Relax, Stanley,” Ford said, finally uncovering what he was looking for. He lifted a small bottle of liquid, “Knew I had this somewhere.” He wrenched open Dipper's fist and gave him the bottle, “Drink this, Dipper.”

“What the heck is that stuff?” Stan asked, nervously eyeing the yellow liquid as Dipper obediently poured it into his mouth.

“Don’t worry, it’s a recipe I developed ages ago,” Ford said, watching Dipper closely, “It is designed to minimize the hysteria sometimes caused by spending time in the mindscape. It has no ill effects apart from fatigue.”

“The mindscape?” Stan repeated, a knot of foreboding in his chest.

“Yes,” Ford replied, “I believe that’s where Dipper’s just been.” His eyes lingered on Dipper’s left shoulder, the shirt was torn and an angry grey scar was visible, “It’s the only place you can get a wound like that…”

Dipper’s moans had finally ceased, his splotchy face drying. He blinked impatiently, trying to clear his mind, his racing thoughts finally easing away ever so slightly. His right hand went to his left shoulder, squeezing it as if to staunch bleeding. His breathing relaxed and finally his body grew calm. He looked up to find both his Grunkles staring at him, awaiting explanation. Although the hysteria of his initial shock had passed, he was still exhausted and his throat raw from screaming and crying. His voice came out in a broken rasp, “Bill Cipher.”

Ford shut his eyes at the sound of the name, cringing calmly, bitterly. He had hoped to never hear that name again. Trusting Bill Cipher would forever be his biggest failure, for which he could not forgive himself.

“Bill Cipher?” Grunkle Stan repeated. As always where his brother would roll over and resign himself, he lashed out in denial, “ _Bill Cipher_ , that goddamn triangle little shit?! Sucker’s dead, kid, you must--”

“No,” Dipper interrupted, slowly shaking his head. His hoarse voice left no room for disagreement. He looked Grunkle Stan in the eye, “He’s not dead. When we--”

“So we erased my fucking mind for nothing?!” Stan’s fists clenched.

"No, Stanley, of course not,” Ford tried to comfort, a current of impatience beneath his kindly tone, “Erasing your mind still eliminated Bill when he was at his most powerful. It still saved the world. Besides, you got your memories back, which was very lucky, need I remind you,” He turned to Dipper, as Stan quietly fumed, “Dipper, what happened?”

“He has Mabel,” Dipper choked.

“WHAT!?” Grunkle Stan roared, his eyes lit with anger.

“Dipper, this is gravely serious,” Ford said, dreading the answer to his own question, “Did she make a deal with him?”

Dipper nodded and in a halting voice, set about explaining everything that had transpired in the mindscape, his new understanding of their run in with Bigfoot, and how Bill had survived. After his explanation, he felt extremely tired and both Stan and Ford were fired up and in shock.

“This explains her strange behavior of late..." Grunkle Ford said, eyes fixed on nothing, nodding slightly.

"We gotta save her!” Stan growled, incensed, his fists itching for a triangle to punch.

“There’s only one answer I can see,” Ford said, lifting his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“The portal?” Dipper said, sleepily.

Ford nodded decisively, “The portal.”

“Thought you disassembled it, Poindexter,” Stan growled, seeking any outlet for his anger, “Stinkin' thing took you years to build, and took me years to get working. And in case you forgot, your journals are gone.”

Ford smiled grimly, “You’re right, Stanley. But after all my tireless work to build it, hide the journals, disassemble it, do you really think I overlooked the possibility that we might need it again?” Ford grabbed an unremarkable book off the bookcase behind him and pulled out some folded up papers, “It's my magnum opus, of course I made copies.” They noticed that Dipper had made no comment, expressed no excitement about this remnant of the journals he had pored over. Even in shock as he was, that was disruptively out of character. They looked over at him, finding him slumped against the arm of the sofa, deeply asleep, “That’ll be the potion side effect. Stanley, stay with him, I need to go make sure that the protective spell is still intact. If it isn’t, Bill already knows our plans. And I doubt Dipper is going to have sweet dreams either way, he shouldn't be alone.”

Stan nodded in agreement, placing a protective hand on his nephew’s head, as he watched his brother swiftly leave the room, “It'll be alright, kiddo...” he muttered, to himself as much as to the sleeping teen beside him.

 


	14. Just a Taste

It was not easy to say how much time was passing in the mindscape. Mabel tried to keep track by using her thumbnail to carve tallies into the floor varnish in the corner, but had trouble finding milestones to follow. Since no sun rose or set outside the tall windows, it was hard to tell when days began or ended. She had stared out the windows at the subtly shifting waves of light, colorless and somehow bluish at the same time, looking for some pattern of change but found none. All this got her was a wicked headache. She only had two tallies in the corner and was feeling weak from hunger when Bill appeared to her, in his triangle form. She didn’t immediately react, which prompted him to ask, “Heck’s wrong with you, Shooting Star? Not giving up on me already, are you?”

She shook her head, and said with a slight defensive lilt, “I’m just hungry.”

“Hm,” Bill said, crossing his arms, “I always forget how high maintenance humans are!” Mabel glared back at him and he rolled his eye, “Oh, fine.” he said and snapped his fingers. A plate appeared in front of her, resting on the bed. She was thrilled for a second before pulling a face, realizing the plate was full of raw meat. Bill rolled over on his back in the air, and she could clearly tell he was smiling smugly even without a mouth, “Go on. Eat.”

Swallowing the nausea in her throat, and focusing on the growling hunger in her stomach, Mabel reached over and took a small scrap of meat from the plate. It was room temperature and kind of slimy, a sickly pink color. _Well, at least it's not grey..._ he thought to herself. Pretending it was foul-tasting medicine, Mabel squeezed her eyes shut, pinched her nose and swallowed it whole. She nearly choked on it when the sound of Bill bursting into a laugh suddenly surprised her, _will I ever get used to that sound?_ She opened her eyes, her cheeks a little hot with anger or embarrassment, to see Bill looking at her with his eye wide, “Sheesh, Star, I was messin’ with you! I know humans don’t eat raw meat anymore,” He snapped and the plate was now full of cooked meat, filets of what looked like pork or chicken, “But I gotta say, I’m impressed!”

A plate of plain cooked meat wasn’t exactly Mabel’s top choice, but she was way too hungry to resist, eagerly grabbing a piece of meat and tearing it apart with her teeth. She mindlessly wolfed down most of what was on the plate, before realizing Bill was still staring at her, leaning thoughtfully on his cane. Self-consciously wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she asked, “Why are you watching me?”

“I like the way humans eat,” He replied, with a tiny shrug, “It’s just about the only time you actually act like animals.”

“You only think that because you think you’re so much better than us,” Mabel retorted, surprised by how freely she spoke the biting words.

But he simply laughed, “I guess you have a point.” he looked at her thoughtfully, “Tell me about yourself, Star.”

“I thought you knew everything,” she declined, her tone a little mocking, “Haven’t you like watched my whole life or whatever?”

“Something like that,” he conceded and then his voice hardened, “But you’ll do as you’re told.”

Mabel fidgeted uneasily and started talking, telling him all about her life. What Piedmont was like, how she and Dipper hated when their parents played favorites, the many cons and mostly pros of being a twin. About the various friends and romances (which was a generous name for them) she had known. When she started talking about art, he started to respond with interest. “I’ve always enjoyed making things, creating projects and sweaters and--”

“Humans use the word ‘create’ in such a weird way,” Bill interrupted, “You don’t create anything.”

“Of course we do!” Mabel disagreed, “I oughta know, I’ve made a crazy bonkers amount of sweaters in my--”

“Human art is merely manipulation,” Bill explained, “The sheep created the wool for your sweater, you only manipulated it.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t a sweater until I was done with it!” Mabel protested, hotly, “Besides, not everyone can just snap their dumb fingers and -abracadabra- create _matter_.”

“Good point, Shooting Star,” he agreed, “Not everyone can be a god.”

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes, “Yeesh…”

“Yeesh, what, Shooting Star?”

“Yeesh as in ‘Yeesh, you’re such a smug poophead’!”

He looked at her for a minute, clearly surprised by her bravery or stupidity, before saying, “Ain’t that the truth. Anyway, tell me more about you.”

“No!” Mabel exclaimed, swiping the plate and the last few pieces of meat off the bed. They disappeared before they hit the ground, “What is it you want to freaking talk about?”

He moved too fast for her to see, getting larger and pinning her back on the bed. She cried out in shock and dismay at the sudden attack, and struggled uselessly against his grip. With a flash of horror, she realized he hand sprouted additional little black arms (which were of course much stronger than they looked) and was using them to thoroughly restrain her. He held up one of his hands in front of her face, and she watched as the fingers changed, becoming hard and pointed at the tip like a knife. His eye smiled down at her, squirming and whimpering beneath him, “I wanna talk about this.” Very lightly, he touched the sharp fingertips to her neck, the pulse thundering right under the soft skin. She shuddered, “Just the slightest pressure and I can hurt you…”

“Please… Bill, don’t…” Mabel begged, ashamed of her own quivering voice.

“Stop blubbering, I’m not punishing you. We’re having a conversation,” he guided his fingers down the thin dress he’d given her to wear, the fragile fabric immediately parting as if repelled by the sharpness, exposing the pale skin of her chest, “If I hurt you,” he continued, the tip of his finger between her breasts making the finest cut, like a paper cut, “You don’t act like most mortals. You like it.”

“No,” she insisted, “I-I don’t like it, you’re crazy,”

“Of course I’m crazy!” He said, circling her breast with the needle point of his index finger, “But you’re lying.”

And as much as she didn’t want to admit it, he was right. The pain hit her like it always did, discomfort and tension at first which eased almost at once to a humming contentment. Warmth flowed through her, pooling like warm honey in her pelvis. _Why do I like it? I don’t want to like it!_ She thought. Bill snickered and to her horror, his eye turned into a mouth, a black tongue emerging, slowly drawing its tapered tip along her skin, gathering the tiny drops of blood. His eye turned back and he released her, floating up, “You should be glad you like it, Shooting Star. It’s gonna make livin’ with me a whole lot easier.” And vanished.


	15. Evil or Weakness

After that day, Mabel found three meals appeared daily, and got in the habit of making a tally for every third meal, supposing that was as good a tool for measuring time as any. Bill did seem to enjoy watching her eat, creating foods he thought she would like, hovering as a triangle or as a slender man across the table from her, sometimes having what passed for civilized conversations. Mabel was a bit cautious in their conversations at first, scared of angering him. But her naturally personable nature soon got the better of her and she found she enjoyed talking to him. He could be surprisingly amusing, if you could put aside his track record. It was easier when he appeared in the form of a young man, rather than the triangle she knew all too well. She didn't know what to make of him. He was the only one she'd spoken to since their deal. Sometimes, when they were talking, it was easy to forget how he tortured her other times, always insisting that she loved the pain. She didn't know why, but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of admitting it was true.

She had to give credit where it was due, his punishments were creative. Mabel had always valued creativity, originality. Bill was nothing if not original. He was not content beating her in the standard ways, with a whip or a flogger or a fist. She was surprised that he had not really touched her in any overtly sexual way since she got here; the nightmares before their second deal had grown sexual in nature pretty fast. She found herself blushing at the memory, wondering if maybe the sexuality in those nightmares had originated in her subconscious, and not been introduced by Bill at all. She was often naked during punishments, and she knew he wanted her. The hungry way he looked at her and touched her flesh was proof enough of that. But, apart from a fairly tame touch here and there, he had made no advances. She wondered why he was denying himself, since he could do whatever he wanted, of course. Maybe he preferred to play with her this way, to mingle enjoyable pain with painful pleasure, petting her and teasing her one moment, and using his strange powers to hurt her the next. If his magic had limits here in the mindscape, Mabel had not yet seen them. He could remove her teeth one by one and then snap his fingers and they were back in place. He could pull her skin from her flesh and let her watch as the wound healed before her eyes, leaving no scar. Mabel was terrified of him, and entranced by him, and alone with him.

She had seven tallies in the corner and this dinner would count for the eighth.

~~~

On a plate before her was a slice of pizza, candied yams, and an apple. Bill did not see the humor of the combination, but it made Shooting Star laugh, “I have seen you eat all this stuff and like it!” he insisted.

“I do, I do like it all!” she laughed, “It's just uhh not a classic combination.”

“Well, the classics were new once too,” Bill said, “You humans have some dumb notions about what's normal and what's classic, but it's all illusion. You're a baby species! None of your ideas are classic!”

“Fair enough,” Shooting Star conceded, “Pizza, yams, and apples is an instant classic, Your Highness.” She bowed her head, patronizingly.

Bill grinned, baring his sharp teeth. The first time she had mockingly treated him like royalty, he had been stunned, torn between being offended and flattered. He had quickly warmed up to it, though. _My ego has never minded the occasional stroking,_ Let her tease his authority, it was droll, but at the end of the day he effectively was her king. Not the first time he'd be considered royalty either, “Geez, Shooting Star, if you only knew.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I dunno how much attention you paid in school, I got the impression Pine Tree was the one with a lust for knowledge,” he saw her smile drop just a little as it did whenever he mentioned her brother, “But I’ve been behind plenty of kings. I bet you've heard about all sorts of deals I made, you just didn’t hear about what was happening back stage.”

“Like what?” She asked, nibbling on the pizza crust, taking the bait.

“Geez, where to start,” he smiled, thinking back to his former glories. _Making deals used to be so much easier,_ “Well, have you heard of Freemasons?” she shook her head, “Figures, they always were big on secrets. The Illuminati?” she shook her head again, “Well, your worthless money doesn’t have my face on it by accident.” She looked puzzled, he saw her mind summon a memory of his visage on the back of the dollar, but she didn't seem impressed, “Well, what about slavery? That was my idea. What an innovation! Way down in Egypt land, as they say. Those pharaohs were some seriously screwed up guys, pretty eager to trust a talking triangle! Plus, they even fashioned tombs in my likeness!” his eye glittered sentimentally, “The pyramids are the nicest offering I've ever received!” Bill reveled in the look of rapt horror on Shooting Star’s face, food forgotten, “But I got tired of them, they were so vain! They forgot _I_ was the god and started thinking _they_ were gods. So then I helped the slaves rebel, which was a bloodbath!” he cackled, “Those plagues were some of my best work, apart from Weirdmageddon. Really pulled out all the stops.”

“This is nuts,” Shooting Star shook her head, “I can't believe you're that _old_.”

Bill cackled again, “Oh, you guys have always been taken with immortality. I’ve made some of my best deals with that one.” he smiled, “How many kings and queens and artists did I snag with that gem? They never seemed to realize I meant ‘immortalized in history’, little fools.” she looked curious, if horrified, “Many you’ve heard of, Leonardo Da Vinci? Man, he was clingy. I was his muse or whatever, our deal wasn't unlike the one I had with your ole uncle Fordsy, as a matter of fact. Didn't you ever wonder why he was so into triangles?” Star's blank, horrified look kept him talking, “Maybe not him, but how about Napoleon Bonaparte? Ha, I really screwed him. Louis the 16th? Adolf Hitler--boy, was _that_ guy a visionary!”

Shooting Star had heard too much and pushed her half-full plate away, looking queasy, “Aw, Star, c’mon, was it something I said?”

“What? Of course it was!” she cried, voice quivering with conviction, “You're telling me you were pulling the strings behind every fricking genocide and war and crazy old guy since, like, the Bible!”

“Listen, Shooting Star, I’ve been behind a lot of human brutality, that's a fact,” Bill said, confused by her behavior. One minute she was enamored with his power, the next she was passing judgment, “But for every war I started, you little skinsacks started ten more without any help from me. I didn't invent killing, I just gave you a knife.”

Shooting Star glared at him, “Okay, Bill, fine. Sure... Now that we're friends it's just weird to be reminded how mean you are.”

Now that caught him off guard. _We're friends, huh? I've never had a friend with so little blood on their hands._ “You'd be mean, too, Star. If you were an eternal being of nearly limitless power, with time to kill and persuasion to spare, you woulda laughed at the droves of mindless Nazi worker bees right along with me and Adolf.”

She shook her head, “No. I'm nice.”

“Oh, Star, I forget you are a child in a race of children.” he held her gaze intently, “You don't have the perspective. There's no such thing as nice or mean. You either have power, or you don’t. Morality is just a lie the powerful made up to control the weak. Trust me.”

She shook her head again, “No!” she insisted, “It's not! Some are powerful and some are weak, but real power is compassion! You’re way stronger when you feed me and talk to me nicely, than when you just like 'gaah I'm an evil triangle god' and follow your worst instincts!” she stood up from her chair, “You're _not_ mean, Bill, you're just too weak to do the harder thing and be _nice!_ ”

His anger flared and she saw it, regretting her outspokenness. He grabbed her roughly by her yellow collar, tossing her at the bed, snarling, “Well, I feel a bout of weakness coming on.”

Even as he created tools with which to hurt her, he wondered if she was right. He had started out so eager to break her, but now he wondered if he could. _Of course, I can! What's gotten into me!_ He looked down at her cowering on the bed, so delectably at his mercy. He'd been pacing himself, trying to make her last as long as possible, tempted and fascinated by her, enlivened as he hadn't been since he helped create the atomic bomb, _I can break her, but when the time comes, I don't know if I will want to._

 


	16. Misstep

There were a lot of things Bill didn't like, but if he had to select what he hated most, it was having his power and authority doubted. By others was bad, but by himself was even worse. He didn't know why, but Shooting Star was destabilizing him. She was as unpredictable as he was, with highs of curiosity and playfulness, and sullen stormy lows. She missed her brother obsessively, and begged to see him. She was rebellious, refusing to bow to him like every other mortal he'd ever owned. Bill had been too lenient, he realized, and if he was going to break her, he couldn't be lenient.

He had discovered her secret tallies, all 31 of them. He was amused by them, but couldn't tell her that. First of all, her count was way off. Time didn't really exist in the mindscape (or at all, for that matter) and the schedules its residents kept were irregular. Only 13 days had passed in her dimension, though he didn't tell her that. He was careful never to tell her what was happening back in her world. He had been watching, though he hadn't been able to see anything out of the ordinary with the other Pines. Pine Tree was a bit hysterical, but he and his uncles seemed always to be slipping into the few blind spots he had in Gravity Falls. To be honest, he admired Shooting Star's spunk and her stealth, covertly sneaking into the corner when she was alone to painstakingly chisel a line into the floor. Instead of disclosing any of this, he asked if she remembered the day she came here, how the Henchmaniacs had converged on her. Of course she did. So he reminded her how much he hated others being careless with his things and beat her more savagely than he ever had, in an effort to clear his mind.

Then he left her for three days (roughly speaking with the whole no-time thing) without a visit or a meal. He had meant to punish her with isolation, but found himself suffering. For the first time he could remember, he felt guilty. _I was too hard on her,_ Bill kept thinking, _and I have no real reason. I was just mad at her for being right about me._

~~~

Mabel was lying on the triangular bed, utterly spent. She had cried for most of a day, nursing the welts and bruises on her body, grateful to be left alone. _I hope he never comes back,_ she had bitterly thought all of the first day. _I can't believe I ever thought he was anything but a horrible monster._ That day gave into the next, the time passing featurelessly and undistinguished. Mabel had no idea how long she'd been alone here. She imagined a clock ticking on and on forever, and found it both disheartening and comforting. _Will I ever see a clock again?_ She was hungrier and thirstier than she'd ever been before, trying not to cry because she knew she couldn't spare the hydration.

When that day bled into the next, she started growing worried. She stopped pacing, lying in the bed trying to conserve energy. Occasionally, she would absent-mindedly pull at her collar, knowing it would never give. Her initial anger had burned off and was replaced by shock and betrayal, _is he really just leaving me here to starve?_ She wondered, feeling her heart twinge with something like rejection, _he doesn't care enough to even watch me die?_ She knew it was foolish to be surprised. What evil was unbelievable from the guy who literally bragged about causing genocide? And yet, she was surprised. Despite herself, she thought of him as a kind of friend, and hadn’t expected him to toss her away so carelessly.

She was doing exactly this, lying in bed, waiting for death, hating how pathetic she had grown, when Bill appeared in his natural form. Her mouth practically watered, smelling smoke and cloves and copper, her instincts hoping the smell meant food. Without a moment’s hesitation, animosity forgotten, Mabel tackled him in a hug. She was so happy just to not be alone, and the embrace was pure impulse.

~~~

At first, Bill stiffened under her touch, completely shocked. _This is the first time she has ever touched me of her own volition to do anything but shake my hand._ The thought came without invitation. Something in him softened and he returned the embrace. His hands landed lightly on her back, and he nearly gasped when he felt her sharp shoulder-blades and spine, hardly cushioned under her skin. She held him tightly for a brief moment and then, with dread, he felt her grow rigid. He grimaced, _aaaaand there’s the warranted hatred I expected._

He released her at once, standing and backing a little away from the bed. She had not missed many meals, but she had lost enough weight that her face was slightly more gaunt. Her eyes, deeper in their sockets, burned at him with a fury he had not seen in a mortal in many years. He could hear the thoughts racing in her mind, _I hate you! I missed you! I’m so thirsty! How could you?_ But he knew she was too proud to speak, and maybe too weak. He pointed to the table, and watched her eyes light up when she saw a tray of bread with peanut butter and honey (something he knew she liked) and a pitcher of water. She tried to run to the table, but fell the instant she was on her feet. Bill lifted her weakly resisting form and placed her in the chair.

Shooting Star grabbed the pitcher, not wasting time with the glass beside it, and began gulping the cool water down, “Don’t drink too fast, Star, you’ll make yourself sick.” he said. She responded with a sharp look and put the pitcher back forcefully, the contents sloshing a bit over the brim. She looked down at the tray, with a flicker of disappointment that it was only a few pieces of bread, but ate it ravenously nonetheless. He sat there, watching her eat, warning her when she was too fast, until the tray and pitcher were both empty. He wished he could give her the feast she longed for and deserved, but anything rich or excessive would surely upset her stomach. She lifted her eyes to him, and dared him to speak. _I’'m not saying anything until he apologizes. Bill, I know you’re reading my damn thoughts. Fuck you!_ He withdrew from her mind, stung by the hostility.

“Shooting Star…” he began. Her angry gaze did not waver, “ _Mabel_ ,” he corrected, her right brow lifting in surprise, “I’m sorry. I have acted unfairly and cruelly to you, and I’m sorry. I honestly don’t expect you to forgive me.”

“You’re a piece of shit,” she spat.

He nodded, “Yeah, I know I am, kid. But that’s no excuse to leave you high and dry. I had no right--”

“Oh, you had _every_ right, Your Majesty,” she interrupted, “After all, you _own_ me, don’t you, Master? I’m just a _toy_ to be played with and broken and thrown away, Your Highness?”

“No!” He disagreed. She stared at him, her anger faltering, confused, “No. I do own you, but we became friends. You challenged me and you were right. I resented you for it and I punished you ‘cause I could. And it was out of weakness, exactly as you said.” She kept on staring at him, “You’ve been in this room too long, it must be almost 15 days by now. What’s the point of belonging to a demon with access to any dimension if I never even take you for a walk?”

“Really?” She asked, disbelieving, “I’m ready to claw my eyes out looking at all these stupid grey triangles!”

“Yes, really,” Bill agreed, smiling just a little, “I’ll give you the grand tour. You just have to give me your hand.” He extended his and she eyed it warily, waiting for blue flames to erupt around it.

“This isn’t a trick, is it?” She groaned, “You didn’t weaken me and offer me your hand to trap me in some deal I don’t realize I’m making, did you?”

“No,” he replied, impressed and hurt by her distrust, “By taking my hand you’re only agreeing to give me a second chance.”

Shooting Star placed her hand in his, tentatively, “Just to be clear, this does not mean that I forgive you.”

 


	17. Impatient

“Dipper, it’s time to call it a night,” Ford groaned, snapping closed the panel he had just finished wiring. Dipper was balanced on one of the top rungs of a ladder, wiring a panel at the top of the opening of the portal. He was deeply focused on his work, the tip of his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth. He appeared not to have heard his uncle at all.

“Dipper!” Grunkle Stan said, roughly.

The boy jumped, teetering precariously on the ladder for a second before looking down at his uncles to see what they wanted, “What is it?”

“It’s three in the morning,” Ford said calmly, “It’s time to call it for the night. We’ll start up again first thing in the morning.”

“I’m not tired,” Dipper lied, “I’ll keep working for a while.”

“Like hell you will!” Stan said, “You _are_ tired, kid. If we leave you down here, you’re gonna fall off that ladder and break your neck!” Ford made eye contact with his brother, admonishing him for his indelicate approach. Dipper sighed and started descending the ladder, “Say what you want, Poindexter, my way gets results.” He turned and left, eager to get back to the Shack and go to sleep.

Dipper reached the ground and rubbed his eyes with his hand. _Of course, I’m tired,_ he admitted to himself, _But how am I supposed to sleep when Mabel needs me?_

Grunkle Ford put his hand on Dipper’s shoulder, “Dipper…” he said.

“I know,” Dipper said, reaching up and gently squeezing his uncle’s six-fingered hand, “I just hate sleeping when I know she’s out there. She isn’t safe with him and...it’s driving me nuts, Grunkle Ford.”

“No, Dipper,” Ford said, smiling, “You’re holding it together remarkably well. We know how much your sister means to you.”

“She means _everything_ to me,” Dipper insisted, as if saying it again would make Ford really understand. He could claim he did understood, he had a twin too. But though they had made amends, their bond would always be deeply fractured.

“I know,” Ford say, compassionately, “And we love her dearly, too. Everyone loves Mabel. Nothing is the same without her.” Dipper nodded in agreement and sensed that Ford wanted to say more.

“What is it, Grunkle Ford?”

Ford met his eyes, “I’m worried. I don’t want to scare you. We’ve been working at an impressive rate, I never thought we could rebuild the Portal so fast…” he hesitated, “But time passes differently between dimensions, wherever Bill has her, it may have been a day, a month, ten years. She may have lived out her natural lifespan and died of old age before we find her.”

“I know, Grunkle Ford,” Dipper said, an edge of anger in his voice, “That’s why I don’t want to waste time sleeping. We need to save her as soon as possible.”

“Yes, I know,” he said, “But we need to sleep. Not sleeping makes you tired and when you’re tired, you can make foolish mistakes. This Portal is too powerful to risk carelessness.”

Dipper’s shoulders slumped, “I know… I just need to know she’s okay. If she isn’t… it’s my fault, y’know? She made this deal for me. I couldn’t live with myself.”

Ford hugged him, as the boy shook with silent tears. He knew that if Mabel was not relatively intact when they reached her, Dipper may never recover. He gave the boy a squeeze and sent him off to bed, doing him the courtesy of not mentioning the tears. Ford had learned long ago that crying took more strength than weakness, but Dipper was fifteen and had acquired no such wisdom yet.

Ford sighed and looked at the Portal, so close to being complete for a third time. He stared for a while, thinking of the Bill Cipher he had considered his friend years ago, wondering for the millionth time if any of that friendship had been authentic, or if it was all a trick as he had come to believe, “Well, Bill,” he said to himself, “We’ll see each other again soon enough.”

 


	18. First Date

Mabel blinked furiously. After the prolonged darkness and colorlessness of the mindscape, sudden light and color were painful to behold. She rubbed her eyes with one hand, not taking the other from Bill. She gasped, “Look familiar at all?” he asked.

“Holy cannoli, are we in Mabeland?” she asked, in disbelief, “From Weirdmageddon? How is that possible?”

“That’s the ticket,” he replied, having switched to his human form, “It’s not your bubble, but it was the main source of inspiration, apart from your own whacked-out mind.”

Mabel could not believe her eyes. Just like in her bubble, it seemed like everything was candy colored and shiny. The sky faded from pink to blue at the horizon, and trees made of what looked like cotton candy swayed in a chocolate-scented breeze. Mabel took a step and looked down at the ground in alarm, only to find that the hill atop which they stood was made of something not unlike marshmallows, “This place is unbelievable…” She murmured, leading the way, tugging him along by the hand without even thinking about it. She gasped, her eyes widening. Just ahead of them was a family of kittens the size of horses, grazing and nibbling on the marshmallows. Suddenly she excitedly hissed, “I am about to ride a giant kitten.”

“What?!” Bill cried, unprepared, and she had already bolted away from him at top speed, hand torn from his, “Shooting Star!” He called after her, flying to catch up. She took a running leap at the nearest kitten to her, which was a peachy cream color. Bill saw that her jump wasn’t nearly high enough to reach her mark and, on impulse, he grabbed her under the arms and landed them both on the kitten’s back. It hissed and tried to scratch them off its back with a hind leg, before breaking off into a scamper. They lied on their stomachs, clinging tightly to its downy fur, Bill acutely aware of Shooting Star, pinned between the kitten’s fluffy back and his own chest. He could feel her back rocking against him, laughing riotously.

Suddenly, the kitten skidded to a halt, both of them thrown over its head and into the air by the momentum. It seemed the kitten was avoiding getting its paws wet in the river of hot cocoa running swiftly under them. Bill didn'ot react fast enough, and heard the splash of Shooting Star landing in the cocoa only an instant before himself. The stream was warm, surprisingly deep, and the current rather powerful. _She’s going to drown,_ Bill thought in horror, attempting to regain control with a breaststroke. After a time, the current weakened and Bill surfaced, immediately greeted with the sound of Shooting Star’s laughter. He looked around and saw her several feet away, happily floating on her back and kicking her feet. For an instant, he just looked at her, mystified. He had never met this girl before, who recklessly rushed into danger head-on, for the sake of a good time. It reminded him of himself in a strange way.

He swam towards her a bit clumsily, ill-accustomed to a human body enough that he wasn’t exactly a master of even the most basic swimming maneuvers. As he got closer, she suddenly submerged completely and he looked around in alarm, “Shooting Star?” he said, looking in every direction, “Shooting Sta--” a spray of hot chocolate in his right ear announced her location. He turned to look at her, confused and a little irritated. A tiny bit of cocoa dribbled out of her grinning mouth, inches from his, and she laughed loudly in his face.

“Hahaha! You should see your face, Bill!” She cried gleefully, before flopping over gracelessly and paddling towards the shore. He followed. They climbed onto the shore, the sugary sand sticking to their wet skin and clothes. Bill snapped his fingers and they were clean, as if just showered, “This place is aaahmazing!” Shooting Star exclaimed. She smiled at him and took his hand again, “Where to next?”

“We can stay here if you wanna explore, Star.” He said, surprised by her hand generously placed in his.

“Naaaah,” she said, “This place is super-duper awesome, but I wanna know what else you think I’d like.”

“As you command, Your Highness” Bill replied, and she grinned, raising one eyebrow challengingly.

~

The two landed on their butts next to each other, on a plush and bright pink surface, “Thiiiis is off to a good start.” Shooting Star said, with an approving nod. She stood up, wobbling a little on the unsteady ground. Bill followed suit, hearing her gasp of disbelief. Again they were atop a hill, with a different view. Everything, as far as the eye could see, was made of fabric. Yarn, to be more specific, everything in sight knitted, felted or crocheted. Beneath them, the hills sloped into a snug valley, where rows of brightly colored lumps, serving as houses, sat along streets that looked a lot like tape measures, “What in the…?”

“This one reminds me of you,” Bill explained, “I once heard you use the term ‘sweater town’ and I can’t think of a better name for this dimension.”

“Sweater Town…” Shooting Star repeated, looking around with gleaming eyes, trying to accept the new definition, approaching a large ball of green yarn, “I could never be sad here, though.” Bill was just opening his mouth to reply when Shooting Star waved at him quickly and squeaked, “G’bye, Bill!” before squirming inside of the ball of yarn, setting it rolling and bouncing down the hill. Bill flew after her without hesitation, watching as the ball gradually unraveled, revealing her inside, clinging with arms and legs to a knitting needle twice as long as her. Holding on to the needle, she rattled to a halt, Bill landing nearby, her laughter getting louder as he got closer.

“Shooting Star--” He started to say, stopping, surprised by the sound of his own laughter. When did he start laughing?

“Wow, _look_ at this thing!” Star exclaimed, holding up the knitting needle next to her like a lance, “It’s so sharp! And shiny! And coooool!” Bill was still trying to get used to seeing her like this, free and silly and apparently just as excited about dangerously sharp implements as he was. She dropped the needle and took his hand, impulsively, “I like this, Bill.” she said, earnestly, looking up at his face, “I haven’t forgiven you, but I like this. I knew you could be nice.” Bill bristled, his laugh stopping, wanting to defend himself, “Now where are we going?”

Bill knew where he had to take her but said nothing. He squeezed her hand and transported her.

~

She blinked, trying to adjust to another new color scheme. It was not as vivid as either of their previous stops, but there was something instantly familiar about it. The muted greens and browns and navy blues made her heart twinge, along with the familiar smell of something like pine needles and wheat toast. Then her eyes found him, and she began to understand. She looked up at Bill for an explanation. _Is this real?_

“He’s dreaming,” he said, answering her unspoken question, “But his consciousness is really here.” Mabel looked around, clearly overwhelmed, her surroundings becoming clear to her. Now that she knew she was in Dipper's mind, it seemed so obvious that everything, the colors, the smell, the very emotion of the atmosphere, were the familiar landscape of her twin's inner world. The amorphous shapes around her began to seem crisper, their edges growing defined. She was in the woods in Gravity Falls, the spot where Bigfoot had killed Dipper, where Bill had been imprisoned and freed, where they had made their deals.

“Go on,” Bill said, his tone uncharacteristically gentle, “He’s only here till his body wakes up.” She gave his hand a squeeze and then eagerly ran to Dipper

“Dipperrrrr!” She squealed, tackling him to the ground in a hug. Her heart ached, seeing a ghostly dreamed version of her and Bill fade away. He had been reliving that day and she didn’t want to know how many times he already had, but was glad to interrupt.

“Mabel!?” he twisted around under her, hugging her back tightly once he was facing her. After a very long, very sincere sibling hug, they sat up and pulled apart from each other, their hands still intertwined, “You’re really here?” He asked. Mabel saw his eyes fall on the collar Bill had put around her neck, his mouth turning down at the corners in disapproval.

She nodded, “Yeah, you’re dreaming, so your consciousness is on the mindscape thingamajiggy or whatever.” she explained hastily and unsurely.

“Bill’s given you free reign of the mindscape?” Dipper asked, incredulous.

Mabel shook her head, “Nooooot exactly,” she didn’t want to let on how bad things had been for her, she didn’t want her brother to feel any guiltier than he clearly already did.

“Are you okay?” He asked, anxiously, touching her hair, “You look okay, but I don’t even know if this is real. Has he been treating you okay?”

“He’s... _weeeeird_ ,” Mabel replied honestly, wanting to omit the worst parts, “He’s… like totes unpredictable. He can be all dark and angry and a dumb jerkface, but he’s also really funny and interesting and junk... and he actually can be nice.”

Dipper raised his eyebrows, unconvinced, “You sound like you have Stockholm Syndrome. Mabel, you’re his prisoner!”

“Stackem whatsits? But doyy, no fudge, Dip,” She said, defensively, “I haven’t had a chance to forget I’m a prisoner if that’s what you think.”

That gave her away and Dipper’s eyes searched hers, wishing for twin ESP, at least in the mindscape, so he could know exactly what she’d been through, “He’s hurt you, hasn’t he? He’s hurt you a lot…”

“No,” Mabel insisted, with the tone of a contrary child, but her face said it all.

“Mabel…”

Mabel wrapped her arms around her brother again, “I miss you so much, Dipper.”

He hugged her tightly, “I know, Mabes, I miss you too. Like crazy.” he kissed the side of her face, “I’m so sorry, I’m the reason you--”

“No!” Mabel insisted, squeezing him, “It was _my_ choice.” she felt him softening in her arms, and didn’t realize at first that he was waking up, slipping away from her. She pressed her forehead to his, as he seemed to evaporate, melting away, “I love you, bro-bro.”

“Love you, too.” came the ghost of his voice and he was gone, and she was back in Bill’s room in the mindscape.

After a moment, Mabel fell to the floor and started to cry. Cautiously, Bill crouched next to her and put his arm around her shoulders, prepared for her to flinch away from him. Instead, she leaned into his touch, laying her cheek on his chest and crying. He scooped her up in his arms and hovered up to the bed, settling down in the cushions, cradling her and gingerly petting her while she cried. It wasn’t long before she fell asleep in his arms, her body weary from the days without food and her recent exploits in the other dimensions.

 


	19. A Promise

Mabel was extremely comfortable. Still half asleep, her eyelids just beginning to flutter open, she luxuriated in the lack of hunger and the warm embrace in which she rested. It only took a few seconds for that to wake her. _Am I cuddling with Bill Cipher?_ She thought, unable to believe it. She peeked up to make sure (though she was positive it was him, his smell was all around her) and got another surprise. He appeared to be asleep. _So demons really can sleep._ He was sitting on the triangular bed, propped up a bit on the generous mountain of cushions, and she was curled up between his legs, the side of her face against his chest. He was still in his human form, and for the first time, she had a chance to look at him without worrying about him reading her mind.

She had never been able to deny to herself that this body was attractive. _I have always had a soft spot for a hot guy. Even if they are actually a two-dimensional demon._ Slender and taller than her by about a head, he tended to wear black trousers and shirt, with either a yellow tailcoat or yellow vest. He was sporting the vest today, and she shamelessly appreciated the way it fit his slim, wiry form. He was very slight, but the hardness of lithe muscle was apparent through the clothes, and Mabel blushed ever so slightly as she felt her body respond, a dull throb of want. Her eyes traveled to his face and she looked at him, pondering his features. His face was delicate, in a way, tapered jaw ending in pointed chin, smooth cheekbones and a straight slightly pointed nose. The lips were well-formed, symmetrical and soft-looking but not pouty in the slightest. His eye was closed, the lashes a dark gold, the skin so pale that the eyelid was translucent, tiny purplish capillaries just visible. Looking at this sleeping angelic face, it was hard to believe the same man had beaten and left her, had done so much worse to humans beyond count.

Bill’s breathing was relaxed and steady, as though deeply asleep. Mabel stared at the lock of shiny blond hair that obscured his other eye. _I wonder..._

Finally, curiosity got the better of her. She carefully crawled up his body a little more, being as light and quiet as possible. Slowly, cautiously, Mabel lifted a hand, reaching towards his face. Her fingertips came in contact with the hair, and for some reason she was surprised by how normal it felt. Particularly silky, but not unlike any normal human’s hair. Holding her breath, she gently brushed the hair away from his face to see what it obscured.

Just as she revealed it, the other eye shot open, eliciting a squeak of surprise. He looked up at her for an uncomprehending second, before smiling devilishly and flipping her over so he was on top of her, “Curious about something, Star? You know what that did to the cat, don’tcha?”

“I knew there was no flippin’ eye!” Mabel replied, validated.

“I guess you caught me,” Bill said, holding the hair away from his face, revealing the uniform smooth skin where an eye would have been, “I can have two, if you’d prefer.” His face shifted, another eye, identical to the first, emerging and forming.

Mabel looked up into them briefly, as they blinked out of sync and didn’t quite focus on her, “Ughh no. There’s something creepy about you having two eyes” she said, “Gives me the heebie-jeebs..”

Bill sighed in relief and the eye was gone again, “Good, I can never get used to binocular vision.”

Mabel giggled and then a silence fell over them. Mabel was lying on her back on the bed, with Bill crouching over her, his body mere inches from hers. The position seemed perfectly natural at first, but the longer they looked at each other, the more they both remembered the bad blood between them. Mabel watched Bill’s face grow hard and distant.

“You’re absolutely right about me, Shooting Star,” Bill said at last, breaking the mounting tension, “I’m all the things you said I am. I’m weak and cruel and vain. I was unforgivably hard on you, and I’m a liar and a cheat.” He sighed, looking down at her, “The truth is, I’ve been bored for a long time. Longer than you can imagine. Boredom might seem pretty harmless, but when you’re bored for trillions of years, it can really get to you. I’ve been so destructive just to break the monotony. Not that I haven’t enjoyed it,” he conceded, “Being ruthless is an easy high, and you could say I’ve always had a sadistic streak. But I wasn’t thinking about it anymore, it was just second nature to me to destroy.” He hesitated, Mabel looking up at him, hanging on his every word, “But honestly, Shoo -- _Mabel_ \-- I like you. You fascinate me and I don’t want to break you simply because I _can._ I’m sorry.”

Mabel didn’t really know what to say. She reached up a hand, and ran her fingertips gently along his cheek and jaw. He closed his eye, leaning into her touch ever so slightly. Her fingers came to rest at the back of his neck, “Bill…” she said, he opened his eye, “I can’t just forgive you.” she saw the flash of his surprise, bordering on anger, _did he expect forgiveness already?_ , “Don’t get me wrong, dude, I actually like you, too. Even though I also kind of hate you... It’s complicated! But you like isolated and starved me for days which is like a pretty big friend no-no. And I’m not gonna just forget that after going for a walk and getting one measly apology.” she thought about how hesitant she had been to tell Dipper about any of this. Usually Dipper was a good litmus test for how healthy anything in her life was, if she couldn’t tell him about it, she probably needed to consider if that part of her life was okay at all, “You _own_ me. That makes this a little... weird. Because, like, you can earn my trust and forgiveness junk or you could not, but at the end of the day, you have the power to do whatever you want, but I can’t even leave this room on my own.”

“Star…” Bill said, softly, “I...I will never do anything to you again without your approval.”

“Is that a proposal?” Mabel asked, suspicious, “Are you trying to make another deal?”

Bill thought about it for a second, “No,” he said, “Not a deal. Just a promise. I want to prove to you that my word is good, without asking for anything in return.”

It was music to Mabel’s ears. _There’s good in everyone!_ She thought triumphantly, seeing evidence of one of her most dearly held beliefs. She smiled up at him, genuinely, “I accept your promise, Bill Cipher,” she said, her hand moving from the back of his neck, up into his soft blond hair, “And I intend to hold you to your word.”

She saw his lips curl with a smile just before they met hers. He had never kissed her and it surprised her. The taste of him immediately made her weak. Much like his distinct scent, he tasted the way fresh wood smoke smelled and like something complex and spicy-sweet, cloves and cinnamon and black pepper. There was a subtle tinge of metal, not like sucking a penny, but more like the coppery taste of blood. He kept the kiss fairly tame, just his lips, and let Mabel be the one to deepen the kiss, her tongue darting into his mouth, feeling the sharp teeth gently graze it. The minor twinge of it made her groan into him. That was too much for him, and he pressed his body down against hers.

They kept kissing, bodies crushed together from knee to chest, their kisses growing deeper and more insistent. Mabel’s hands roamed all over Bill’s body, through his hair, across his hard back, down to touch his ass. It was his turn to groan when her hand greedily grabbed at him. Her hands ventured between them, fumbling to unbutton his vest. Suddenly, his clothes disappeared, her hands meeting smooth skin. She gasped, and felt him smile into their kiss. Mabel’s hands explored him again, curious and hungry, entranced with the feel of his bare skin.

~~~

Grudgingly, Bill broke their kiss. His eye held hers as he purposefully peeled away her shirt, showering her exposed chest with kisses. Next her skirt, and he laid kisses on her thighs, grinning at the whimpers and whines this drew from her. Then he carefully slipped off her panties. She was completely naked, apart from her yellow collar. He looked up at her face as he tenderly planted kisses starting just below her belly button, and traveling down, down, her moans taking on new life as he reached his destination. The tip of his tongue gently poked at her opening, tasting the intoxicating musk of her body. Excruciatingly slowly, his tongue probed deeper, as he gradually altered its length and girth to suit her. The tip of his tongue met the minor resistance of her virginity and he had to fight to keep control. _Geez, when was the last time I received a virgin sacrifice?_ She tasted so maddeningly good, her moans and little human sounds were so delicious, it took all his restraint not to extend his tongue right through and fuck her with his mouth, his teeth tearing her tender flesh, eating her from the sweetest spot on, holding her down and devouring her--

Bill tore his face away from her, breath ragged. His ears were pounding, his fists clenched in the blankets. Shooting Star let out a whine of protest, not understanding why he had stopped. His entire body was burning hot, his true self a violent shade of red. He shuddered, pulling himself away from her and lying on his back beside her, trying to cool down. He had come so close to hurting her.

“...Bill…?” She ventured gingerly, rolling onto her side next to him. He could feel the soft flesh of her breasts and knees against him. He closed his eye, trying to ignore it, trying to stop the barrage of images flashing through his mind, broken skin and glistening carnage, a bed soaked in blood. A moment passed and then her voice came again, quivering, “...B-Bill…?”

At her tone, his eye shot open and he turned to look at her. She was balancing on the brink of tears, _I’m an idiot_ , he scolded himself, _how is she supposed to know I’m protecting her,_ “Star, no, don’t cry!”

“It’s okay,” she murmured, her voice quaking with hurt, “It’s okay if you don’t want m--”

“Oh c’mere,” he insisted pulling her on top of him and kissing the tears that floated on her eyelashes, “Don’t even say that shit, I want you so bad it’s driving me crazy.” She gave him a look, “Crazier.” he corrected, “I only stopped because I...didn’t want to rush you and...I was having trouble holding back, I wanted you so bad.”

Shooting Star accepted his lie of omission, a somewhat smug smile on her lips as she bent down to kiss him. As she bent down, her hips rocked against his, creating a delightful friction between them. They resumed kissing, rolling their hips against each other, experimentally at first and then hard and fast. Bill couldn’t take it anymore and flipped her back onto her back underneath him. She automatically wrapped her legs around him, inviting him. He looked down at her face. She was flushed and panting, her pink lips wet and parted, slightly swollen from kissing. Her pupils were dilated, her lids heavy, and eyes damp and full of longing, “Biiilllll…” she sighed, impatiently.

“Shooting Star,” he said, tenderly, “Are you sure you want--”

“Yes!” she cried out.

“But you’ve never--”

“I know,” she said, her arms locked around his neck, “I will stop you if I have to.” He nodded.

He slid one hand onto the back of her head, twined in her damp soft curls, as with the other he gently parted her lips and aligned himself with her entrance. Her hips had been gently bucking against him and even that slight motion sent shivers through him now. He looked her in the eye, and she smiled a little, giving a nod of agreement. With that signal, he thrust into her in one fluid motion.

He was prepared for the initial cry of pain, and continued to slowly, gently thrust into her until he felt her muscles relax and she began to make sweet humming moans deep in her throat. The sound drove him wild and his mouth desperately sought hers as they fell into a rhythm. As they lost themselves in each other’s arms, Mabel finally perceived time as it existed in the mindscape. Not at all.

 


	20. Food for Thought

Shooting Star’s dreams were untroubled. Bill delved enviously into the depths of her mind, like diving into a clear, still pool of water. Her face was peaceful, the soft features at rest, her steady breath warm and moist on Bill’s chest. He watched her sleep, amazed by her calmness, his own mind a battlefield.

 _You've lost your touch, Bill Cipher._ His hand rested casually on Shooting Star’s shoulder. He looked at her flesh beneath his hand, so fragile. With the slightest pressure, his fingers could sink into her like a sharp knife into butter. He pictured it, the pale skin giving way, splitting beneath his fingers, revealing the rich purple-red flesh, the blood streaming down his wrist. Deep in his core, he felt the familiar thrill of destruction, tasted her blood. But it filled him with shame, a pain he could hardly stand, _I won't betray her_ , he insisted to himself, _I'm her keeper and I won't hurt her. No one's going to hurt her._

This girl, a child, really, had changed everything. He thought of the millenia of wanton destruction, the wars and plagues, the mountains of human corpses at his hand. Normally, these thoughts cheered him up, but now they made him wonder. Her words echoed in his mind, _You're not mean, Bill, you're just too weak to do the harder thing and be nice!_ What was that human phrase? Out of the mouths of babes? Shooting Star stirred in his arms, nuzzling closer to him and he found himself smiling tenderly. _What have you done to me, little girl?_

An errant thought of Pyronica entered his mind, his last lover before Shooting Star. _Love is not the right word for what we did._ It was hard to believe that he was the same demon who had razed cities with her. They had been a pair to reckon with, their power evenly matched, their affair a fiercely competitive war. He remembered the games they used to play, trying to outdo each other’s acts of destruction, chasing and struggling tooth and nail with each other, these mad fights culminating in explosive sex. She and this fragile mortal in his arms couldn't be more different, Star so gentle and so full of good faith that she somehow even saw good in _him_. Bill thought back on how he'd watched Shooting Star behave earlier in the other dimensions, rushing straight into danger, laughing like a woman crazed, _No,_ he thought, _Star has a chaotic streak just like Pyronica. Her chaos just doesn't have a body count._

 _What am I doing?_ He wondered, his hand absently twirling a brown curl, _Making promises to a possession? How can she ever trust me? Why should she? I’m a monster._ It struck him how much he didn’t want her to think him a monster. He wanted her to see good in him, even if he found it hard to believe there was any there. The time he’d spent with her since their deal, talking with her in particular, for the first time in centuries he wasn’t bored at all. While he had isolated her, he had spent some time with his Henchmaniacs and found their company crass and dull. _Maybe if I had tried to make real friends instead of tricking everyone, I woulda never been bored enough to become a monster in the first place._

~~~

“Have you finally grown bored of your new toy, Bill?” Pyronica had asked scathingly.

“Yeah!” 8-Ball had piped up, “Tell us how you killed it!”

“She’s not dead,” Bill had corrected, a bit curtly.

“Oh. So were you planning on sharing it with us after all!” Kryptos had interjected, excitedly.

“No,” Keyhole had said, eyeing Bill suspiciously, “You’re not planning on killing it at all, are you, Cipher?”

Bill had held his gaze, but had not answered his question. _None of you would understand._

“Not killing it?” Pyronica had scoffed, as if it was inconceivable to leave a mortal alive, “What the heck else is a slave good for, other than eating them or killing them? Unless it's doing your dirty work for you, but you wouldn't have brought it here for that. It’s not exactly like you can take them to bed!” That had earned some laughs and Pyronica ate it up, “Not the way you go to bed, Bill,” she smiled at him lasciviously, “A mortal wouldn’t last one round.” Her one eye glared into his, seeing if she’d hooked him.

“Whatever you’re planning,” Kryptos had huffed, “You should share it with us. I share my slaves all the time.”

“It’s none of your concern what I do with my possessions,” Bill had replied, simply, wanting to talk about anything else, his guilt at leaving her like a block of ice at his core.

“Well, I pity it,” Keyhole had said, “Being confined to a physical body like that,” He smiled at Bill humorlessly, digging his words into what he knew was a sore topic, “You wouldn’t understand, of course, Cipher, since you have no physical body in their dimension. But I can take any physical form, and those weak, whimpering skin puppets are the one I loathe most to inhabit. They are so fickle, so hard to care for, so easily starved and dried out.”

“Well, maybe one day you’ll forget how much you hate it and stay in a human body too long,” Bill said, his words biting, “How sad for you that after only a few hours in one body, you become trapped there for its lifespan. How we would miss you.”

Keyhole barked a laugh, “How sad, indeed, but I’m not nearly so careless with what’s mine as you are.”

~~~

Bill was pulled from his memory back to the present moment by Shooting Star burrowing still closer to his body. He slid his body down on the bed, bringing his face parallel to hers and folding his arms around her waist. He tried to focus on her, how nice it was to hold her, and forget the dark implications of their affair. Star curled towards him, tucking her face against the side of his neck. He closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep again, even though he knew it was not in his nature. _I’ve been acting against my nature plenty lately, why stop now?_

 


	21. Lasso

“So you made all of those sweaters one tiny loop of yarn at a time?” Bill asked, incredulously.

“Uh doyy,” Mabel laughed, “That’s kinda how knitting works.”

“Humans are stupid,” Bill muttered, with a chuckle.

Mabel laughed, “I can’t argue with ya there. But not all of us have the luxury of being all-powerful, ya know.”

“It’s no luxury!” Bill insisted, sitting up as if offended. She raised an eyebrow at him, challenging him to explain. He broke into a smile, “Alright, maybe it’s kind of a luxury.”

“Who knitted this place, though?” Mabel asked, gesturing an arm at the dimension they both referred to as Sweater Town, “This is more than I could knit in, like, my whole life.”

“I don’t know who knitted this place,” Bill replied, with a small shake of his head.

“Meowee wowee!” Mabel exclaimed, with a patronizing punch to Bill’s shoulder, “There’s something you don’t know, Your Majesty?” He rolled his eye and gave her a nudge, causing her to rock a little bit on the soft ground. By her count, it had been about a week since the first day Bill had taken her out of the bedroom where he’d imprisoned her, and it seemed like everything was different. With a grin, she kept rolling back and forth on her back, “If you think about it,” she said, thoughtfully, “This entire world is just one huge bed!” the thought incapacitated her with a fit of giggles.

“I like the sound of that,” Bill replied, with a wicked smile.

She caught the smile and winked at him, “Of course you would.”

“What do you mean by that?” Bill asked her, hovering off the ground and floating over her.

“Oh, nothing…”

“No, c’mon, Star, what were you implying?” he leaned down and nipped at her earlobe with his sharp teeth, “Were you calling me lazy?”

“Nope,” she said, trying to conceal the blaze of heat the little nibble sent through her.

“What was it then?” he slipped a hand under the soft, large sweater she was wearing like a dress, trailing his fingers up her thigh, “Do I seem sleepy?” she shook her head. His hand slid up her side, fluttering across her breast, “Ill? Bedridden?” she shook her head again, closing her eyes and biting her lower lip. His hand began trailing down her stomach, “Do I strike you as a blanket enthusiast?”

“A blanket enthusiast?!” Mabel laughed in his face and reached up to tousle his hair, “You’re such a dope when you try to sound like a human.” He said nothing and she opened her eyes, her smile starting to fade, suddenly terrified that she’d offended him. His face was serious, the mouth drawn in a grumpy line. She was about to apologize when he started cracking up, rolling onto his side in the air, bent over in laughter.

“You shoulda seen your face, Star!” he said, poking her nose.

“Hey, nice one,” Mabel said, with an approving nod, “You delivered that punchline like a bonafide mortal idiot.”

Bill dropped down to the ground, landing on the soft yarn with a comfortable thump. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, Mabel drew him into her arms, his head on her chest, the last tremors of laughter diminishing to stillness. _I must be insane_ , Mabel thought to herself, _He could still kill me for saying the wrong thing._ She felt him stiffen in her arms, _Or thinking the wrong thing! Stop reading my mind, Bill._

“Sorry, Star, old habits die hard.” he apologized.

“It’s fine,” she said, with a dark humor, “ ‘Keep an open mind’, right?” He looked up at her, and she could tell he wanted to read her thoughts. She sighed, “Reading my mind won’t get you anywhere. It’s full of more questions than answers.”

They held each other quietly, Bill's head laying lightly on her chest, for a while before he spoke. “Shooting Star,” Bill said, softly, “Do you want to make a deal?”

She jerked away from him at once, pulling herself up and crossing her arms. _Things were so nice a second ago…_ She pouted, “You’re joking, right?” Her sudden movement had left him face down on the ground, and he pushed himself up, looking a bit annoyed.

“No, actually,” He said, crossing his arms as well, “I wasn’t.”

“Explain,” Mabel demanded. When he hesitated she put her hands on her hips, “ _Now._ ”

Bill sighed and ran his hands through his hair, “I wish you wouldn’t assume I’m tricking you the minute I propose a deal--”

“Well then, you shouldn’t have spent all of human history earning that reputation, you big jerk.” Mabel snapped.

“How am I supposed to explain anything if you don’t let me talk?” Bill snapped back at her. She could be so damn trying sometimes, _she’s almost as stubborn as I am._ She extended a hand to indicate that he should continue. “I wasn’t going to trick you,” he insisted again, “It’s just that… well… _owning_ you doesn’t seem right anymore. You’re never going to be able to trust me if you’re always scared of me. And as long as I own you, no matter how well I behave, you’d be wise to fear me.” He sighed again, flopping back and covering his face, “I don’t want you to be my prisoner, or my slave, or even my pet. I want you to be my… friend.”

“Just a friend?” She flirted, climbing on top of him, in lieu of apologizing for her distrust.

He smiled up at her, straddling his hips. He grabbed the front of her sweater and pulled her down on top of him, “A very, _very_ close friend.” She kissed him deeply, and he could feel her mouth smiling against his.

They got lost in the kiss for a while before Mabel pulled away, gasping for air, “I love the way you kiss, Bill, but humans sometimes like eeeevery once in a while, need to breathe!”

“As I said, humans are stupid.”

She smiled down at him for a while before asking, “Were you serious?”

“Absolutely,” He said, his eye glinting, “Humans are completely stupid.”

“No, Bill,” Mabel said, her hand petting the soft hair at his temple, “Were you serious about… freeing me?”

“Yes, Mabel,” he replied sincerely. Hearing him use her given name always sent a shiver down her spine, “Now that I know you, I see that you were never fit to be a possession. You’re too…”

“Radical?” she offered, earning a laugh.

“I was gonna say ‘free-spirited’. But sure, you’re too radical.” He agreed.

“Oooh, free-spirited?” Mabel repeated, losing herself to a flight of fancy, “I’m like a majestic wild horse, Queen of the prairie, too powerful and beautiful to ever be tamed and ridden--”

“Mmm,” Bill hummed hungrily, pinning her under him, “Tamed and ridden? I like the sound of that challenge. Let me just grab my lasso,” He said, tugging a strand of yarn as thick as rope from the ground, quickly tying it securely around her wrists, just tight enough that it would hurt.

“You’re a dork,” she whispered in his ear, as he nudged her collar out of the way to bite the delicate skin of her neck, “And you’ll never tame me.”

“I know,” he said, holding her down, “But it’s fun to try.”

 


	22. Tonight

“We’ll finish it tonight,” Grunkle Ford said, with an air of weary pride, “I just have a few tests to run and the portal should be ready to activate.”

“Finally,” Dipper said, a slightly crazed glint in his eye, “We’ll finally get her back tonight.”

“Kid, we’ve been working all day,” Grunkle Stan protested, “We should rest up and gather our--”

“No!” Dipper shouted, surprised by his own volume, “No. I’m not waiting a minute longer than I have to!” He could see the looks of concern in their faces but was grateful that they didn’t voice it. To ease the old man’s mind, he said, “I’m going to go lie down for a bit. Come get me once it’s ready.”

“You got it,” Ford said.

Dipper left the room, muscle memory leading his feet to the ragged blue sofa. He had slept down here more and more since Mabel’s disappearance. It kept him close to the action, but he also could hardly sleep a wink in the attic room, looking at Mabel’s empty unmade bed, the sheets still where she had left them. He hadn’t avoided sleep as much since her visit to him on the mindscape, every time he closed his eyes hoping that she would come to him. She hadn’t. He collapsed on the sofa, leaning back with his arm bent under his head. He closed his eyes, _Please visit me, Mabel,_ he thought intently, trying with all his might to send his message out to her, _Give me a sign that you’re still there._ Every night that he didn’t see her in his dreams, his confidence that she was still okay grew smaller and smaller. It had only been about three weeks since the day her and Bill made their deal, but there was no telling how much time had passed in the mindscape. _Besides_ , Dipper thought back to Weirdmageddon, _He turned Gravity Falls into a nightmare in less than a day._

He tried for the umpteenth time to comfort himself that Mabel had seemed relatively unscathed when he saw her in the mindscape that night. Sure, it was a little weird that she’d been wearing a collar, and she had been a little evasive about his questions, but she had been intact physically. And more importantly, she had not seemed too unlike herself. A little glum, a little too cautious, but that seemed like a natural reaction to belonging to a demon. The most troubling thing had been when she tried to defend him, insisting that he could be “funny” and “nice”. But even a little case of Stockholm Syndrome wasn’t too bad a response to the situation. Dipper smiled sadly, _Of course she would think that. She’s always insisting on trying to see the good in everyone, I guess even Bill Cipher._

His grunkles’ conversation became audible as they entered the room next to him, to check the energy readings on the terminals, “...think we’re going to die tonight, Poindexter?”

“Be quiet, Stanley,” Ford snapped a little too harshly, “I’m sorry, but there’s no room for that kind of doubt. You don’t know Bill like I do, a moment of that kind of hesitation could be enough to get you killed.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s fine,” Stan grumbled, “I’ll just let you do the talking. Aaaand the calculations. Aaaaand the fighting.”

“Stan, don’t…”

“Don’t _what_ , Stanford?” Stan’s gruff voice demanded, “We have to work together. You can’t cut me and the kid outta this. I know Bill and you are friends from way back bu--”

“He _isn’t_ my friend.”

“But he was. Or you thought he was.” Stan insisted, talking over Ford’s argument, “No, don’t deny it. Dammit, Ford, I’m not criticizing you! Will you get your head out of your ass and _listen_ to me?!” There was a pause, “You’re right. I’m scared shitless. And I have no fucking clue what we’re up against. I don’t know Bill much except that he’s a psychopath, I don’t know what the hell is going to be waiting for us on the other side of that Portal. But I know Dipper has just about lost his marbles and I’m a stupid old man and if we try to do this thing separately we might as well just tie some nooses, it’ll be a quicker means to the same end.” Ford started to speak again, but Stan talked over him, “I know you feel guilty. For Weirdmageddon, for all of this. You’ve never forgiven yourself for letting him trick you. No, _no_ , but dammit, IQ, you can’t fucking play the hero once we’re over there! Sacrificing yourself won’t undo anything, it won’t make anything even or redeem any of it. It’ll just leave me short one brother again and I already tried that most of my life and I ain’t doing it again.”

Ford was quiet for a moment, “Thank you, Stanley.”

“Besides,” Stan said, “If you die in there, I won’t know how the hell to get us back out.” They both laughed, though there was no mirth in the sound, “Do you think we can do it?”

“I honestly don’t know, breaking Bill’s deals is tricky.” Ford said, and Dipper could almost hear him rubbing the bridge of his nose under his glasses, “There’s no way of knowing how much of Mabel will even be left when we get to her. And Dipper is so unstable already. I’m afraid if she’s gone, we may as well have lost them both…”

“Well, they’re tougher than they look,” Stan said, optimistically, “And they’ll stick together.”

“Us too. Whaddya say?”

“High six?”

The sound of a clap, “High six.”

His uncles said no more. Dipper mulled over their doubt and confidence, comparing it to his own. As sleep drew near, everything else fell away and he was left with only his drive to see his sister again. _I’ll see you tonight, Mabes,_ he thought fiercely, sleep taking his body, _I’ll save you._

 


	23. Distrust

“No way, Keyhole, you’re insane.” Teeth said.

“We’re all insane,” Keyhole reminded, with a dark look, “What’s your point?”

“That is more than normal demon insane,” 8-Ball pitched in, “There’s no way Bill’s in love with a human.”

“And why the hell not?” Keyhole asked, growing angry, “Bill Cipher has always been unpredictable and vain. Humans are stupid, but it wouldn’t take a genius to outwit Cipher.”

“But the deal--” Kryptos began to protest.

“His inane deals have always been dangerous,” Keyhole continued, “If he’s the smarter one, they work in his favor. But if not…”

“You really think that little skinbag is smarter than Bill?” Pyronica asked, skeptical, “You saw it when it got here. It looked like it wasn’t going to last the night.”

“Exactly!” Keyhole exclaimed, putting an arm around Pyronica’s waist, “How has it kept itself alive for so long?”

They all thought on it for a moment.

“Well, even if he is being too soft on this mortal,” Kryptos asked, levelly, “What does that matter? He can do what he wants with his possessions.”

“True,” Keyhole conceded, “But he still thinks of himself as our leader. Do you really trust the judgment of a demon like him? We need a new leader.”

“And I guess that’s you, huh?” Teeth chattered, unconvinced.

“Who better for the job?” Pyronica agreed, her eye never having left Keyhole’s face, “Do you want to risk your own necks for him or a meatlover like Bill?”

“You really think Bill’s gone soft?” 8-Ball asked, cautiously.

“No,” Pyronica replied, “I think he was always soft. It’s just finally beginning to show.”

~~~

“So, what would the terms of our new deal be?” Shooting Star asked. Bill could tell she was trying to sound nonchalant, but she wasn’t quite selling it.

Of course he had been anticipating this question. Dreading it, even. _If this is what having a conscience is like, I don’t think I like it._ One thing was certain, Shooting Star needed her autonomy back. His owning her was not only unhealthy for their personal relationship, but it was beginning to dawn on him ever so slightly that maybe it was inherently unhealthy. He pushed the thought away, the ethics of slavery was not the topic of conversation. _She has to be free,_ he repeated to himself, _But if she were free...she’d never stay with me._

Star was looking at him expectantly, her expression slowly crumpling with doubt as she waited for him to speak. _He’s having second thoughts,_ he heard her think, _he was never going to set me free. Shit, why did I ever trust him for a minute?_ Her thoughts stung him more than they should have. But that was why he needed to free her, he could never earn her trust as her owner, and he knew that her trust was what he really wanted.

“Bill…” she said, moving her head to meet his eyes.

“I dunno, Star,” he replied, his tone sharper than he meant, “I need to think.” _That means no._ she thought, and dropped her face, as if that would conceal the tears that began to roll down her cheeks, “What do you want me to give you, Mabel?”

Her tearful brown eyes met his, confused. They were still in Sweater Town, and nervously, Shooting Star began twining her fingers in between the loops of the green yarn on the ground. There were bruises purpling on her wrists from the yarn Bill had used to restrain her, and when she absentmindedly ran her thumb over the bruise, he could tell she was calming herself with the pain as he had seen her do before. Finally, she spoke, “Bill… you know what I want. I-I want to be free! I want to go back home! I want to see Dipper a-and…” her voice broke and the tears came.

“What about me?” Bill asked, carefully.

When she regained her composure a bit, she met his gaze, unsure, “I don’t know what you want, Bill, you’ll have to tell me. That’s how a deal works, right? We each name our price?”

Bill shook his head, “No, Star. I mean how do I fit into what you want?”

He saw understanding dawn on her face, “Bill…” she reached out to grip his hand, “I just don’t know… I mean, this has been… I mean, you’re… W-we can’t do this, though, can we? I mean, you’re immortal and I’m gonna get old… and my family hates you… A-and you don’t have a body--” she stopped speaking when she felt his hand stiffen in hers. _It always has to come back to having a body, doesn’t it._

“It’s time to go home,” Bill said, a little coldly, returning to his natural form. He was kidding himself with that pretty human body, it wasn’t really him she wanted at all. It still stung when he heard her thought, _It isn’t my home..._

 


	24. Infiltration

“...that’s going to be a problem…” Ford muttered. These were the first words Dipper heard after going through the Portal, and he felt a kernel of dread blossoming in his gut. He rubbed his eyes, adjusting to the unsettling grayscale of the mindscape. He was lying on the ground, slick black stone, not far from his uncles. He was about to ask what was going to be a problem when he saw it. Grunkle Stan was holding something in his hand, a clump of metal and wires, clearly broken.

“The remote!” Dipper cried, his voice weaker than he expected.

“Crap, when I am gonna learn not to keep valuables in my back pocket…” Grunkle Stan grumbled, trying to aim for a joke but his tone sour.

“Let’s get to cover,” Ford insisted, and the three men got to their feet and crept behind a wide grey column. Dipper peered around the side of the column, getting a lay of the land. It was some kind of strange common room, round in shape, the ceiling so high it receded into shadows. There was a sunken landing in the center, surrounded by large chairs, each different, each with the scale and opulence of a throne. Seeing the triangular-backed one with an eye motif, Dipper didn’t need to wonder which was Bill’s. In the center of the thrones was a firepit, unlit. Around the outside walls were towering doors and fireplaces, vast tapestries depicting all manner of heinous acts, some of the demons depicted therein familiar from Weirdmageddon. The rest of the walls were covered with windows, all sizes and shapes, some small as portholes, some far larger than doors, and through each a different world or dimension. Dipper kept thinking of them as television screens, like they were the feed from security cameras, but knew they were not.

He turned to Stan and Ford, “What do we do now?” he asked, his eyes on the broken remote in Stan’s hand.

“Whaddya mean?” Stan asked, sounding a little defensive, “We find Mabel.”

Dipper opened his mouth to protest but Grunkle Ford interrupted, “No, Stanley’s right. We follow the plan. Finding Mabel is our first objective.” The flat line of his mouth turned up slightly, “In a way, this is safer. Without a remote control of the Portal, we can’t access that rift but it will also make it harder for Bill and his friends to get it.”

As if Ford had intended that as introduction, several of the demons entered the room. _Henchmaniacs,_ Dipper remembered absently. He was about to try and remember their specific names, when his mind all but short-circuited at the sight of his sister. He heard Stan and Ford’s small gasps and knew they had seen her, too. Involuntarily, his hand went to the grip of her grappling hook, where he had stuck it through a belt loop, in case he should need it.

Mabel looked tiny standing in the center of a gang of demons. She was barefoot, in a large blue sweater that hung almost off one shoulder and about down to her knees. Around her neck was the same yellow collar she had worn in his dream, _so that was real…_ As Dipper’s eyes found the collar, they noticed a new purplish bruise on her neck, and more on her thighs and wrists. Dipper felt his blood begin to boil, seeing the possessive hand Bill kept on Mabel’s shoulder, as he floated close beside her, “What’s the occasion, guys?”

“You should teach your pet some manners,” The pink woman _was it Pyronica?_ said sharply. It took an instant to realize she was referring to Mabel.

“Th-thank you f-for inviting me,” she squeaked in a small, frightened voice that sounded nothing like Mabel.

Pyronica grinned broadly, showing off a mouth full of fangs, “Of course, you are the guest of honor, after all.”

Mabel looked over at Bill nervously, as his hand tightened on her shoulder, “Guest of honor…?” she repeated.

“In a sense,” Keyhole said (Dipper remembered his name clearly because, well…) “It’s true that you are part of why we’re having this little powwow. A catalyst, so to speak.”

“Man, and I thought Bill was hard to listen to…” Grunkle Stan grumbled, fists clenched, “That guy’s hardly said anything and I’d like to sock him right--” Ford nudged him and glared him into silence. Dipper didn’t need to hear the rest to agree.

“Spit it out, Keyhole.” Bill growled.

“There have been complaints,” Keyhole leered at Mabel, “About your newest...acquisition.”

“What I do with my stuff isn’t your concern,” Ford, Stan, and Dipper exchanged a look. _Did he just refer to Mabel as stuff?_

“Unfortunately, my monster, it is our concern,” Pyronica said with a carnivorous smile directed at Mabel, who blanched and cast her eyes down, “The way you’ve been treating this mortal is an embarrassment to all of us.”

“Joke’s on you guys,” Bill said, trying to laugh it off, but Dipper thought he was beginning to seem nervous, “I don’t really care if you’re embarrassed.”

Pyronica and Keyhole exchanged a look, the rest of the demons looked uneasy. Then everything seemed to happen all at once. Keyhole lunged to wrench Mabel from Bill’s grasp, but was an instant too late, as Bill had snapped his fingers, teleporting her to the side of the room, not far from where Dipper and his uncles were hiding. Pyronica whirled around and flew towards Mabel at incredible speed. Without a thought as to what he was doing, Dipper’s feet took off under him and he was racing towards the frightful pink demon. Pyronica was nearly upon Mabel and Dipper faintly heard Stan yell his name as his fingers grazed Pyronica’s leg. An instant later, nausea curled in his stomach and he was blinded by color and light.

 


	25. All Hell

Bill blinked once in disbelief. _Pine Tree? Well, I’ll be damned._ Had he been in a form with a jaw, it would have dropped at what he saw next. Stanley Pines ran into view, brandishing his fists, “Where the hell are they, you sons of bitches!”

“Hiding any more mortals around here, Bill?” Teeth asked, amused. Bill was about to reply in the negative when old six-fingers stepped into sight as well, quietly admonishing his twin.

“I gotta admit, I’m impressed,” Bill said, gliding a bit in their direction, “The bravery and stupidity in this family never runs out.”

“Cipher, this is precisely the problem,” Keyhole interrupted, “Your inability to control your chattel is unacceptable.”

Bill snapped his fingers and chains restrained the elder Pines twins, “That better?” he asked, impatiently. _Shooting Star won’t be able to get through Pyronica, even with Pine Tree. I need to get this over with, and fast._

Keyhole was clearly unimpressed, looking at Stanford and Stanley as if they were livestock, “I suppose I misspoke. Your inability to control your mortals is merely a symptom of the problem.” He turned his eyes on Bill, “You’ve lost your touch.” Bill narrowed his eye skeptically, as if he didn’t understand, “Your flair for destruction, your drive to rule. You’re not fit to be our leader.”

As if he were not being threatened and insulted, Bill shrugged casually, “You’re right. But you’re even dumber than I thought if you expect me to give it up that easily.”

“I don’t need you to give me anything,” Keyhole replied,beginning to circle Bill, “I can just take it.”

Bill laughed, almost surprised to hear his infamous cackle, and not the gentler laugh Star drew from him, “I got a better idea. How about a deal?” Bill had to admit he got some satisfaction over the energy that suddenly filled the room. He nearly laughed aloud feeling the wave of distrust from the chained Pines twins behind him.

Keyhole stopped in his tracks, a disbelieving smile just touching his lips, “You’ve got to be kidding, Cipher.”

“Not at all,” He replied.

Keyhole held his gaze. This moment was crucial in every deal, to pique the curiosity enough that they would be willing to hear your offer, “Alright,” Keyhole said and Bill smiled inwardly, “For old time’s sake, I’ll at least hear your proposition.”

“Permission to possess your body. Temporarily.” Bill said, watching Keyhole’s eyes widen.

“Why the hell would I agree to that?”

“To become the strongest and smartest demon ever, of course.” Bill explained, _careful, careful, here. This is where deals get tricky._

His adversary scoffed, but there was a hint of desperate longing hidden in his voice, “You can’t make that happen.”

Bill drew closer to him, “I can. You wouldn’t believe what powers I acquired while I was gone.” Keyhole was watching him closely, looking for a loophole but wanting to believe there wasn’t one, “And I can’t only promise there’ll be smarts and power, but being the object of Pyronica's fancy and the terror of the third dimension.”

For what seemed a long time, Keyhole held Bill’s eye, “All that, for the temporary use of my body?”

“You got it,” Bill said, the blue flames of his hand igniting, “Whaddya say?” Every lung in the room held its breath. And then Keyhole’s hand reached out, took hold of Bill’s, and shook. The deal made, Bill did not wait, keenly aware of the danger Shooting Star was in. Without a moment’s hesitation, he swiftly snapped Keyhole’s neck, easily ending his life. Years ago, Keyhole had mentioned that his oversized head put too much strain on his neck, making it his weakest point. Bill’s consciousness moved immediately into the new puppet before him, and harnessing a considerable deal of his own power, he revived it with his own life force, having ridden it of its previous inhabitant, truly making it his own. Having a body felt so good and it was about to feel better. Utilizing Keyhole’s shape-shifting ability, he changed to the human form that Shooting Star had come to know well, “Now, _that’s_ more like it!” Bill laughed, he turned to the other Henchmaniacs, standing dumbfounded and silent, “You guys saw all that, right? Don’t mess with me or what’s mine. So long!”

Without waiting for a response, Bill swept over to the Pines, removing their bonds and grabbing them, teleporting together.

 


	26. Hide and Seek

_Geez, running on yarn is crazy hard, who woulda thunk it?_ Mabel was kind of amazed that terrified as she was, her mind still had time for sarcasm. Her legs felt like jell-o from running on ground that offered almost no resistance and her chest was on fire. She was acutely aware with each second that it would probably be her last. After a few minutes of running, she became suspicious that perhaps no one had followed her to Sweater Town when Bill transported her, but she was too frightened to risk looking behind her. Ahead of her, to her left, was a dense forest of swaying trees of felted wool. Without thinking, she darted between the strange, fuzzy trees, collapsing in a thicket of crocheted bushes. Panting, she laid herself back on the squishy ground, letting herself catch her breath now that she was at least somewhat hidden from sight.

Once Mabel’s breath had returned to normal, her mind started cranking along at a dizzying rate. Was she really alone here? If she was, and if something happened to Bill, would she live here forever? She thought of all the times in her life when, mopey and dejected, she had withdrawn into Sweater Town. _It would be pretty kooky if I ended up stuck here…_

Just as she was becoming fairly certain that she hadn’t been followed, and trying to wrestle with the possibility that this strange, plush world might be her home for the rest of her natural life, she heard a voice that sent a shock through her system. She strained her ears to hear.

“...ere are you?! I _know_ you followed me here! I felt you touch me, mortal _filth!_ ” The voice belonged to Pyronica without a doubt, and she was pissed, although what she was saying didn’t make a lot of sense, “I don’t know who the _hell_ you are, but when I find you, I’m going to turn you _inside out!_ ”

~~~

The demon’s threats made Dipper quake with fear, sweat breaking out on his skin. He was creeping around, a good deal behind her, grateful that the sound of his steps were muffled to near-silence by the yarn of the ground. He was a little too oversaturated with adrenaline to consider what a fascinating dimension they were in, where everything seemed to be made of yarn or string or felt. There was only one thought on his mind, _Find Mabel before she does._

“Where did you even come from?!” Pyronica was raging, as she tore up yarn trees and flowers, leaving tangled and charred piles of yarn in her wake, “Are you another one of Bill’s vile pets?!” Hearing Pyronica refer to his twin that way made a coil of rage unwind in Dipper’s chest, and he had to suppress the insane urge to charge at her. _You won’t be any help to Mabel if you get yourself killed, idiot_ , he was scolding himself, when he watched the demon peek into a stand of fluffy trees and laugh triumphantly. Another voice let out a brief, shrill scream. It was like a bolt of lightning from his ears to his heart and Dipper instinctively knew the source of that voice. He was physically shaking as he watched Pyronica lift up her arm and saw Mabel wriggling helplessly in her hand. He ran a few steps before stopping himself forcefully, _Waaaait. Don’t be rash!_

He stalked closer, careful to not make a sound.

~~~

“Ooh, this is going to be fun,” Pyronica said in a toying tone, running her tongue over her lips, as Mabel fought against her grip, “I love prey that bites back.”

Angry, desperate, frightened, Mabel took that as a suggestion and clamped her teeth down hard on Pyronica’s hand. Surprised, the demon yelped and dropped her. Mabel winced as she landed hard on her ankle, feeling it twist and give out under her weight. She began to crawl away, the yarn giving her knees a nasty rugburn. With a snarl, Pyronica swiped at her, knocking her onto her back, “I see why Bill kept you. He always liked a girl that could put up a fight.” Mabel scrambled back, away from the formidable pink demon, trying to ignore her words, “He will tire of you, though, just like he tired of me.” a flash of fury and hurt swept across Pyronica’s features, surprising Mabel with its intensity, “Sparing you from Bill Cipher’s eternal _bullshit,_ I’d be doing you a favor.”

“N-no!” Mabel cried, surprised by her own protest, “You’re wr-wrong about him!”

Bill may have laughed at such a headstrong disagreement, but his ex-lover only glowered, “Even for a human, you’re stupid. Bill hasn’t said an honest word in a trillion years.”

A rush of defensive rage burst through Mabel and she flew to her feet. She spat in Pyronica’s face, her mouth burning from having bitten the demon’s fiery hand, and ran a few steps, pain shooting up from her injured ankle. It was only a moment before Pyronica had her on the ground again, pinning her down with a foot on her chest, “Bill really snagged a lively one with you,” she growled, the menacing playful tone given way to something dark and threatening, “But you’ll suit me much better when we can both see what the inside of your skin--”

“HEY MONSTER LADY!” a voice interrupted her, “You’ll suit me or w-whatever when you’re r-rotting in HELL!” _Dipper??_ Mabel thought in utter disbelief, straining to look around for her brother. A button the size of a frisbee hit Pyronica in the temple and she lost her balance, freeing Mabel, whirling angrily to find her new challenger.

“SHOW YOURSELF!” The demon roared, angry eye sweeping the area impatiently.

Mabel’s more patient eyes found her brother first. Pale-faced and clearly terrified, he was crouched only several feet away, mostly obscured by a pile of buttons. Their eyes locked and Dipper gave her the most imperceptibly slight of smiles, but it was unbelievably comforting to her nonetheless. With a swift swing of his arm, Dipper had another button gliding at Pyronica. This one managed to hit her right in the eye and she wailed, a scream of surprise and frustration more than pain, as both her hands flew up to protect the eye. Mabel pulled herself to her feet and ran towards Dipper, gritting her teeth and ignoring the sharp pain in her leg. She faltered as she reached him and he leapt to his feet to steady her.

~~~

Dipper’s fear was forgotten for an instant as he caught Mabel before she fell. His steadying hands turned immediately into a tight, grateful hug which she reciprocated, her face digging a bit uncomfortably into the side of his neck. His quick inhale of relief caught him off-guard. After her time away, Mabel’s hair against his face didn’t smell like her usual floral shampoo but he was struck dumb by her natural familiar scent, creamy and completely her own, which he’d never even really noticed before. Reluctantly, he broke the hug, holding her at arm’s length, “Y’okay?” she nodded, glancing fearfully back at Pyronica, whose anger seemed to double with every second she did not blindly locate her prey. Dipper nodded back and they took off at a run, hand in hand, trying to put as much distance between them and their adversary as possible.

At first, Dipper didn’t realize Mabel was hurt, but then he noticed her pace was growing slower and more uneven and then he heard her audibly wincing every time her right foot touched the ground. She stumbled to the ground again, with a cry of pain, and Dipper sank to his knees beside her. When she failed to rise to her feet, Dipper didn’t hesitate. He scooped her up in his arms and started running again. She didn’t seem too heavy at first, but another person’s weight made running surprisingly harder. He set his jaw, deep hard breaths through his nose like a horse, and focused on just making it one more step. _Goddamn noodle arms, why why why don’t I work out!?_ Were his racing thoughts when he felt his foot snag on a loop of yarn and he and Mabel tumbled to the ground together. They lay in a heap together, trying to stand, when Pyronica was suddenly upon them. Her eye was back to normal, if a little irritated-looking, and she was looming over them, an unforgiving smile curving her huge mouth. Mabel’s arms, still partially draped over Dipper, tightened around him. With the smallest sigh of defeat, Dipper clung to his sister, and shut his eyes tightly, like a child hiding from a monster under its bed.

 


	27. Allied

“Don’t you dare touch me, Cipher!” Sixer shouted, the words out of his mouth before he realized that Bill was indeed no longer touching him and that they were somewhere new. His twin was a little quicker to realize his surrounding, demanding to know at once where he was. Bill was hardly paying attention, anxiously sniffing the air of Sweater Town. _Finally in a body again and I don’t have the luxury of taking it slow_ , he whinged in his mind, using his body’s new nose to try and detect Shooting Star or Pyronica’s familiar scent. He caught a far-off whiff of smoke and went that way.

Sixer and his brother were stumbling to keep up with him, and he could hear Stanley’s insistence, “Ford, are you kidding me? We’re gonna follow _this_ guy?! After watching him betray and lie to his own goddamn friend??”

Bill shot a sideways glance back at them, “I didn’t lie.”

“Didn’t lie?” Stanley’s voice was strained with anger, “We saw you, you lying piece o--”

“My word,” Stanford interrupted, his tone almost impressed, “You _didn’t_ lie.”

“What the--? Ford, you’re gonna stand up for--”

“I’m not standing up for him,” Sixer insisted curtly, “I’m not condoning anything. But it wasn’t a lie. Bill never specified to that lock fellow that _he_ was going to earn any of that infamy. He just described his own reputation and let the fool assume that it would be his own.”

“Still got it, Six-fingers,” Bill shot back.

“We can’t trust this guy, Poind--”

A scream silenced all three of them, Bill zeroing in immediately on the source of the sound. Without warning, he grabbed the two Stans again, teleporting the three of them. _Please, don’t be too late…_

~~~

There was no way they were going to make it, but Mabel couldn’t help but be comforted by her brother’s presence. Holding him in her arms, having had not an instant to talk, she realized how incomplete missing him had made her feel. She couldn’t read his mind, of course, but she didn’t need to hear his thoughts, mercilessly admonishing himself for ‘failing’, puzzling five different escape plans, spiraling into fifteen terror fantasies about their impending deaths. He was probably too distracted to be happy to see her.

This one source of comfort was shattered as Pyronica ripped them from each other’s arms, lashing them hastily to the ground with some of the abundant yarn. Mabel stretched her arm and felt Dipper’s hand, stretching for her, too. Eager for the comfort of each other’s touch, their hands desperately twined and squeezed together. The demon was tightening the knots by Dipper’s feet when his brown eyes found his sister’s, so like his and he murmured, “It’s so good to see you, Mabes.” She felt a powerful surge of love run through her. As scared and ashamed and uncertain as he was, he too was overwhelmingly glad to be reunited.

Their eye contact was broken as Pyronica harshly grabbed hold of Dipper's hair and pulled, eliciting a scream, “No, no, none of that sappy shit. I'm not letting you two bloodbags make this any easier for each other.”

“Leave my brother alone!” Mabel yelled, the sound of Dipper's scream making her skin tingle with protective rage.

“Ah, your brother,” Pyronica nodded, “No wonder you look so alike.” She raked a claw along Dipper's abdomen, tearing his tee shirt and making a shallow red cut in his skin, “I wonder if your organs look the same?”

“No, no! Don't hurt him!” Mabel begged.

With a grin, Pyronica looked at her, “I suppose we could start with you instead.”

“No! Mabel!” Dipper cried, his eyes crazed with rage and guilt, “I'm not letting you sacrifice yourself for me _again_!”

Pyronica laughed harshly, “Man, this is getting good and I haven't even started to break--”

“You're not breaking _anything_ of mine, Pyronica.” Mabel's neck made a small snap, she whirled her head so quickly at the sound of Bill's voice. She was struck dumb by the sight of him, in his human body, flanked by her two great uncles. _I never thought I'd see that team..._

“Bill, my monster,” Pyronica cooed, “What a pleasure.”

“Shut your mouth, whore,” Bill snapped, his tone like barbed wire, “I'm not your anything.”

“How dare you?” Pyronica hissed, turning away from her restrained victims to face Bill. Mabel and Dipper exchanged a look, eyebrows identically quirked in confusion, “How am I the whore? I've watched you sell your false loyalty to millions. _You_ are a whore, Bill Cipher!”

“Oh, am I?” he asked, mockingly, teleporting himself behind her, she whirled around, roaring. He teleported several feet away from them, “I always saw myself more like a pimp than a whore, but maybe you'd care to discuss?” She rushed towards him, the fire at her hands and feet blazing brightly with anger, forgetting her prey in her rage. Without hesitation, Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford ran to their niece and nephew, scrambling to untie their restraints. The four of them clamped together in a tight group hug for a moment, overwhelmed by the reunion.

“Dipper, you're hurt,” Grunkle Ford said, as they pulled apart.

“It's okay, it's not deep.” Dipper said, brushing off his Grunkle's concern, his eyes glued to his sister, who was staring after Bill.

“I need to help Bill,” She said, the slightest hint of guilt in her voice, her eyes flitting to his, before staring back at the distant figures of Bill and Pyronica and the balls of flame and insults being hurled between the two demons.

“What??!” Dipper and Grunkle Stan angrily exclaimed in unison, but Grunkle Ford was silent. He looked at Mabel levelly and she met his eyes.

After a moment he sighed, “As much as I hate to admit it, Mabel's right.” Stan and Dipper both opened their mouths to protest, but he lifted a six-fingered hand to silence them, “ _No_. You know I hate him, but our chance of survival and getting home is much better with Bill Cipher on our side.”

 


	28. Last Stand

“Just like old times, right?” Bill snarled, throwing a harpoon made of blue fire at Pyronica's head.

She dodged it and gave him a wicked grin, “You always were good at foreplay.” She flung a ball of white fire at his head, singeing the tips of a few blonde hairs. She smelled the smoke and gave him a curious look, “Is that a real body you're inhabiting?”

“Borrowed it from an old friend,” he said, by way of explanation.

“Hah!” She barked a laugh, her claws missing him by inches as he skirted out of the line of fire, “I'd hate to see what kinda deal they got stuck with!”

He laughed as well, sending a hail of small triangular blades at her, just as he'd done to Pine Tree the day Star gave herself to him. Pyronica dodged them effortlessly and smiled at Bill, closing the distance between them, though he continued floating backwards away from her. He saw a familiar glint in her eye and grimaced inwardly, _Oh no...she's into this, isn't she?_

“This is fun, my monster,” she purred, catching up with him, “You're actually _weaker_ than me in this body!”

“I thought I'd cleared that up,” he said, pushing her back from him with enough force that she stumbled, “I _am not_ your monster.”

“Oh, come now, Bill,” she grinned, eye twinkling. She caught up with him again, her hand brushing his face, the heat intense and uncomfortable against his new human skin, “What could a mortal possibly offer you that I can't?”

“Love,” Bill replied, without an instant's hesitation. _Shooting Star doesn't love me_ , he internally admonished himself, _Who am I kidding?_

His answer had stopped Pyronica dead in her tracks, though, her playful flirtatious expression curdling, “ _Love?_ ” She spat, incredulously, “You've lost your mind! What good is love to a demon?”

“You wouldn't understand,” he said, honestly, floating back and trying to keep the distance between them. His foot brushed the ground and he was surprised, used to such a thing being effortless.

She laughed again, “You really are weak! You can't even keep yourself off the ground!” He was about to bluff and disagree when the ground came up flat and soft beneath his feet and he felt them actually supporting his weight. _The limits of a human body always take too much getting used too..._ he thought angrily, as Pyronica loomed over him, “Keyhole was right! I can't wait to tell him!”

“'Fraid you just did.” he replied, greeted with a vacant stare. He returned the body to Keyhole's shape for an instant before shifting back, “As I said, got the body from an old friend.”

He watched a wave of comprehension crest in Pyronica, and crash down as a tumult of rage, “What did you _do,_ Bill Cipher?” her voice sharp as a razor, as she rushed at him with renewed fervor, “I'm going to _destroy_ you!”

 _Get away from my man!_ He heard Shooting Star's thought as clearly as if she had shouted it in his ear, an instant before he saw a gleaming silver object emerge from Pyronica's chest. Her hands flying to her chest in pain, she whirled around, flinging Shooting Star from the back of the huge knitting needle where she still clung to it. She landed a couple feet to Bill's left with a soft grunt. He was at her side in a second helping her to her feet. He saw her react to the feel of his hands and heard her thought, _he feels different._ Without time to dwell on it, or explain, he picked her up and ran, knowing Pyronica was at their heels. He could feel the muscles of his new legs groaning with the effort it took to run on yarn and stopped dead when he head a loud thump and a cry of dismay behind them.

Turning around, with Shooting Star still in his arm, it took a moment to understand what had happened. Stanley and Stanford were hurriedly tying Pyronica's blazing ankles with yarn, the fibers singeing and turning to ash as they worked but she was still incapacitated, at least for now. _Did they actually trip her_? Bill wondered, delighted by the simplicity and bravery of such a tactic, _leave it to the Pines._ In frustration with the futility of their task, Stanley dropped the yarn and threw his body across her legs, his body weight more effective in restraining her. After a moment of thought, Stanford joined him and the two exchanged a tiny, nearly invisible smile, both stiffening a little in pain as Pyronica's fire turned their clothing to ash upon contact and started to bite at their skin. It would do no damage, but Bill knew it hurt like hell.

“I'm going to kill you _all!_ ” Pyronica was screaming, thrashing on the ground, trying to reach the humans on her back, the hole in her torso slowly mending, glaring green-eyed at Bill and Star, “I'm going to start with that little mortal whore and then--”

“You're not going to lay a finger on my sister,” Pine Tree interrupted, coming into view from behind some of the yarn foliage, pointing a strange device at Pyronica's head. _My grappling hook?!_ Bill heard Shooting Star think in surprise, giving the tool a name but not explaining its function.

Pyronica laughed, “What are you going to do to stop me? Gonna use that--”

“Her mouth is her weak spot,” Bill explained, coming closer, but not letting go of Shooting Star, who gave no indication of wanting to leave his arms. Her mind was mostly filled with disbelief at her twin's bravery and the fact that her family and Bill seemed to be working together.

Pine Tree crouched, seemingly oblivious to the blood that drenched the front of his clothes, pointing the grappling hook point-blank at Pyronica's mouth, “You are _not_ going to hurt my sister.” He reiterated.

Pyronica growled and her eye found Bill, “Bill...” she said, and he heard the pleading undertone in her voice.

He shook his head, “No, Pyronica. Why should I stop the boy?”

“I'll do anything, Bill!” She replied, her pleading voice suddenly urgent, “You're my friend, plea--”

“I'm not your friend,” Bill corrected, coldly. Reluctantly, he walked over to Pyronica, and crouched with Pine Tree to his right, placing Shooting Star on the ground gently to his left. He felt the boy bristle beside him, the hate radiating off of him. But their was a fracture in that hatred, a channel of uncertainty. Bill hoped that doubt would be enough.

“I'll do anything, _anything,_ ” It was a plea Bill had heard countless times from mortals, but rarely from demons.

“I'll let you live on one condition,” Pyronica's eye searched his face imploringly, ready to agree to anything, “Leave me and these mortals alone. _Forever._ ” He felt Shooting Star place her hand on his shoulder, gratefully.

Pyronica's gaze was hard and he could see behind it that she did not understand, but she held up her right hand, wreathed in white fire, “Deal?” she said, with a hint of irony, her eye not leaving his.

“Deal.” He said, igniting his own hand and shaking hers. As she shook his hand, he gestured his other at the elder Pines twins, who got to their feet and approached Bill a bit nervously. Pyronica disappeared the instant Bill released her hand. Without asking or explaining, Bill put his right arm around Pine Tree, his left around Stanford and Stanley, and with Star's hand still on his shoulder, he summoned all his strength to locate the rift back to the third dimension and drag all of them through it.

 


	29. The Third Dimension

For the first time since her second deal with Bill, Mabel felt her stomach lurch. She dry heaved twice before opening her eyes. The grass beneath her hands was dimly lit but green. She blinked, feeling her weight pressing her rugburned knees into the ground in a way different than what she was used to. She felt a hand gently laid on her back and lifted her eyes to her brother's face. It was only a couple inches from hers, a bruise darkening slightly along the jaw, his nose slightly pink, the brown eyes seeking hers with an anxious hopefulness that made something in her chest twinge. _Oh god, I'm really here!_ The thought surged up in her like a wave and she threw her arms around Dipper, practically knocking him over, eliciting a somewhat worn out chuckle. She smiled deeply when she felt their Grunkles wrap their arms around them gratefully, re-creating the group hug they had shared in the mindscape. It was that thought that brought it to her mind, a small dread threatening the overwhelming joy in her heart. _Bill._ She broke the hug a bit unwillingly, to look for him, already knowing that he had no physical body and that she wouldn't find him.

But then she did find him. She realized with a pang of relieved homesickness that they were on the lawn behind the Mystery Shack, the Pines all clumped together in relief, while Bill sat silently watching from several feet away. He was in the human form she had grown used to, his face drawn and tense, his mouth a tight, straight line. Involuntarily, Mabel felt herself smiling, genuinely happy to see him, and saw his face relax and smile back. Grunkle Stan must have followed her eyes, because an instant later, the atmosphere of goodwill was broken by his gruff voice saying, “Rats, what the heck is _he_ still doing here?”

“He gained a physical body, Stanley,” Grunkle Ford reminded, his tone a bit harder than usual, “What's to stop him?”

Dipper and Mabel exchanged looks of shock. Mabel turned back to Bill, “You have a physical body?!” her mind raced, trying to figure it out, “But you look like _you?!_ ”

“I probably should explain,” Bill said, and went on to do just that, repeating to Mabel and Dipper the deal he had made with Keyhole. Mabel had some mixed feelings about him tricking a friend, but realized also that Keyhole had betrayed him first. She also couldn't deny that deep down, she was happy to be able to see Bill in her own dimension.

“But he only agreed to you using his body temporarily,” Grunkle Stan pointed out, skeptical, “But you killed him. There's something I'm missing.”

“That 'temporarily' was the loophole in this deal. I'm not an idiot, there usually is one--”

“No shit, there usually is one...” Dipper muttered.

Bill kept talking as if he hadn't heard him, “The loophole was that I will inhabit this body until its human lifespan ends. Temporarily, as in only one lifetime.”

There was a nervous silence as the Pines absorbed this information, before Mabel asked, “Human lifespan? But Keyhole was a demon, too, wasn't he?”

Bill nodded, with a smile, “Yes, Shooting Star, he was. But his variety of demon, unlike mine, had a three-dimensional body that could take whatever form it wanted. The downside being, if they stay in one form too long, particularly a weaker one like a human, it becomes permanent for the rest of their life.”

“Soooo...” Mabel said, trying to resist the smile beginning to curl her lips, “Are you human now?”

He laughed, and Mabel could feel her uncles and brother tense at the sound that to her had becoming endearing, “For the most part. I still have most of my powers, or rather, I will when this body has recovered a little. And I still have a few millenia of knowledge up my slee--”

“Okay, what the hell!” Dipper exclaimed suddenly, “What the hell is going on? Are we like just gonna make _nice_ with Bill Cipher now?!” He turned between his uncles and his sister, “He tried to destroy the world! He betrayed you, Grunkle Ford! Mabel, _you're his slave!_ ” His tone was hot with anger, “Am I the only one who's not okay with this??”

“No way, kid,” Grunkle Stan piped up, immediately, “I am most definitely not okay with this.”

“Wait! You guys!” Mabel protested, “I'm not really Bill's slave, we were going to break the deal. Right, Bill?” Bill nodded in assent.

“Break the deal?” Grunkle Ford's voice was skeptical, “I don't believe it.”

“No! Really! We were!” Mabel insisted, “We became...friends!” she realized they might not be ready for the whole truth.

“Pumpkin, we risked our hides to save you from that asshole,” Grunkle Stan said, pointing a thumb at Bill, “You might think he's your friend, but he isn't. He kidnapped you!”

“We couldn't have gotten her back here without his help, Stanley,” Grunkle Ford disagreed, breaking his thoughtful silence, “We'd all be dead if we hadn't worked with him.”

Stan turned at his brother, teeth bared, “Who the hell's side are you on, Stanford!? That's the same guy who tricked you and ruined your damn life, remember!?”

“I know, but Stanley--”

“No, 'but-Stanley's!” Stan cried, throwing up his hands, “I can't listen to any more of this shit! I'm going to bed,” Just before entering the Shack, he turned back and looked directly at Bill, “And don't you even _think_ about starting any nightmare end-of-the-world craziness while I'm asleep!” He slammed the door behind him.

For a moment the three Pines and Bill looked at each other in silence. Mabel thought Bill had a truly contrite expression on his face and had a powerful urge to run over and hug him, to squeeze his real body and feel his real arms squeeze her back. But Dipper was holding her hand so tightly his knuckles were white and she knew they weren't done talking. Dipper stood up, tugging her hand slightly and she stood up, too. Something seemed different and she realized that her ankle no longer hurt, “My ankle!” she said aloud in surprise.

“My powers aren't at their peak right now, but it was an easy fix,” Bill said, “You, too, Pine Tree.”

Mabel and Dipper both looked at Dipper's body, seeing instantly that behind the torn bloody tee shirt, the skin of his chest and stomach was unmarred. Dipper set his jaw stubbornly, but Mabel smiled brightly, “Thank you, Bill.”

“Bill...” Grunkle Ford said, with an unsure tone, meeting the demon's eye, “I don't understand. You're in the third dimension, with a vessel, but you're just sitting there. You've helped me and my family... but I don't understand why. Why?”

Bill sighed, “Sheesh, Fordsy, you were always one to get right to the point. I know it's hard to believe, but I've had a change of heart.”

It was Ford's turn to sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose wearily, “That is indeed hard to believe. Even impossible to believe.” He stared at Bill for a while, his mind clearly racing, “I once thought you were my friend, and you manipulated and lied to me. I don't know how I'm supposed to believe you now. And yet, for some reason, you've protected me and my loved ones from certain death today, for which I am grateful.” He looked over at Mabel, his eyes sentimental, “I've seen my great niece inspire goodness in everyone she meets, but...I just don't know if I can believe this.”

“Why don't you sleep on it, Sixer?” Bill said, a hint of genuine kindness surprising Ford, “I promise I won't stage a sequel to Weirdmageddon while you're all asleep.”

“A promise from a liar isn't worth much.” Dipper spat disdainfully.

“He's telling the truth, Dip,” Mabel said to him, softly, and he gave her a searching look. She could see how confused and hurt he was by her faith in Bill.

“Dipper,” Grunkle Ford put his hand on his nephew's shoulder, “Can you two handle this on your own?” Dipper looked at him and nodded once, “Come to me at once if he tries _anything._ ” Dipper nodded again. Ford gave Bill one more hard look and said simply, “We've beaten you before. If you try anything, do not doubt that we can stop you again.” He gave Mabel a tired smile before turning and walking into the woods, in the direction of the location of the original Mystery Shack.

 


	30. Unforgivable

A tense silence fell over the Pines twins and Bill, on the moonlit back lawn of the Mystery Shack. Dipper was still holding Mabel's hand too tightly, and she could see him grinding his teeth, trying to come to terms with everything he'd seen and heard in the last twenty-four hours. There were still a few feet between where Bill sat and where the twins were standing, his yellow eye never leaving Mabel's face. Finally, Dipper cleared his throat before speaking, “Heyy, so, man,” he said to Bill, and Mabel cringed a little, recognizing the forced casual tone as the one Dipper always used at parties or when he'd had to make small talk with any of Mabel's boyfriends and crushes, “Could you, uhh, maybe give me a minute, uhh, alone with my sister?”

“Of course,” Bill obliged, immediately getting to his feet and walking towards the tree line. Mabel was so used to him floating everywhere, she was surprised by the desire she found growing in her gut, as she watched him actually _walk._ The slight, careless slouch of his shoulders, the thumbs hooked in the pockets of his tight black pants, not to mention the slight sway of his butt and hips in those pants.

“Mabel,” Mabel tore her eyes away from Bill, looking at Dipper with the expression of a student caught cheating on a test.

“Hey, bro-bro,” Silence fell between them, and Mabel realized that instead of flinging accusations, Dipper was waiting for her to say something first, “You were pretty cool back there, Dippinsauce, what with yelling _MONSTER LADY_ and threatening demons and then like picking me up and junk. Not to mention the sweet frisbee skillz comin' in handy with them buttons.”

Dipper smiled a bit bashfully and rubbed the back of his neck, “Yeah, hah, I was kind of in idiot hero mode. Also, mostly out of my mind with relief from seeing you after missing you so much.”

“I missed you, too, Dipper,” Mabel smiled at him a little, but watched his expression harden.

“Mabel, you can't be serious about Bill, right?” She frowned at him, “I mean, I _know_ you like to see the glass half-full and everything, but some stuff... I dunno, some stuff can't be forgiven.” He was making earnest eye contact with her, “He made you his _slave_ , Mabes. We worked so hard to save you and...” his voice faltered, “You just don't care...”

“No, Dipper!” she shook her head, “Of course, I care! It means the world to me that you would do that for me!” she saw the grumpy line of his mouth relax into the tiniest, unsure smile, “But everyone deserves a second chance! There's good in him, just trust me on this!”

He looked unconvinced, “Mabel, I just don't know... I mean... he tried to take over the world. He's hurt a _lot_ of people. How are you okay with that?”

“I never said I was okay with his past, Dip,” she pointed out, “I'm not. He's done some toooootally cray cray bad stuff, like maybe worse than Weirdmageddon.” She saw Dipper's face grow pale and realized that wasn't really helping her argument, “But I got to know him. I dunno the last time he actually like made a friend, but he's really not all bad! I mean, he saved us and healed us and whatnot, didn't he?”

Dipper considered this, “I dunno, sis... I mean, I'll give him a chance if you really want, but I have pretty low expectations of him. And if he tries _anything_....” she watched him take a deep breath to cool his anger, “I'm just really happy you're home. I was going a liiiiittle bit nuts from missing you.”

She smiled sympathetically and hugged her brother again. She felt like she was never going to get over the novelty of being able to reach out and feel his comforting touch, after being torn from it for so long. It just wasn't right for twins to be that far apart, “I missed you too, bro-bro.”

Dipper squeezed her back and nuzzled his face against her neck, but then she felt him stiffen. He pulled back, his eyes glued to her neck. She looked down, realizing her collar from Bill was still there. Dipper crossed his arms, and she could practically see his anger rising like flames, “If Bill Cipher is such a good fucking guy, and he freed you, why the hell is there a collar still locked around your neck?!” Mabel raised her hand to touch the collar, the leather warm from her body. She was so used to it, she'd forgotten it was there at all. She felt a blush come to her cheeks, thinking about the way Bill tugged it out of the way firmly to kiss her neck. She looked back at Dipper, her mouth open to explain, but her words withered in her throat at the look on his face. His lips were slightly parted in shock, or even offense, his nose wrinkled just the slightest bit in disgust, “Oh my god, Mabel...” he groaned, “You can't be serious.”

“Can't be serious about what?” She asked, putting her hands on her hips, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because you fucking fell for Bill Cipher, didn't you?” Her brows rose and she opened her mouth to deny it, but he interrupted her, “Didn't you?” She broke their eye contact, looking down at her feet, and he groaned, covering his face, “I can't deal with this, Mabel! Every time you like a guy, you just get blind to his flaws! Like how that douche Mark was just 'troubled' when in reality he was just an asshole trying to get in your pants!” Dipper's voice had risen to a frustrated yell, and Mabel felt tears prickling her eyes and she looked back at his face, met with fury and something like betrayal, “But Bill's not just some horny teenager, he's a fucking monster! He's a fucking ruthless chaos god with no respect for life whatsoever! You can't just excuse it by telling me he's lonely or misunderstood or something! I just--” His voice broke and she saw his temper subsiding, saw the familiar post-anger exhaustion she'd seen a hundred times. He took a deep breath, eyes on the ground, before muttering, “I'm going to bed. Please, just...don't get yourself killed. Some of us really value your life.”

Mabel watched his back as he trudged back into the Shack, shoulders slumped in weariness and defeat. The sound of the Mystery Shack door clicking shut was like an arrow through her, and she hugged herself tightly as the tears began to fall.

 


	31. Body Language

_I better regenerate soon,_ Bill thought, walking as quickly as his weary human legs would carry him, _This whole walking thing is gonna get real old, real fast._ He had heard most of Pine Tree and Shooting Star's conversation, but realized too late how close she was to tears. He knew Pine Tree loved her, but he still found himself biting back anger towards anyone that would upset her. He could see her now, sitting on the dingy couch on the back porch of the Mystery Shack, her face in her hands, shoulders bouncing with sobs. Without thinking he kept striding towards her, cursing in surprise when he was repelled off of an invisible barrier. Shooting Star looked up at the sound, seeing Bill getting back to his feet, brushing off his pants. She smiled sadly.

“I guess it didn't go that well?” He asked, tentatively.

She sighed and said, trying to be brave, “Coulda been better, yeah.”

Bill nodded, “I don't really expect their forgiveness.” he met her tearful eyes, “Or yours.”

“Bill...” she murmured, “Y-you've proven yourself to me.” she held her arms open, “C'mere.”

Loathe to say no to her, Bill was about to take a step when he remembered himself, “I can't,” he said, poking the barrier with one finger, showing her as it threw his arm back. He shrugged.

Shooting Star stood up from the couch quickly, went down the steps a bit huffily, and crouched to the side of them, inspecting the underside of the porch. She plucked something off the wood and turned towards him again, “Well, now you can.” she said simply.

He watched an iridescent hair fall from her hand to the ground and looked back at her, slack-jawed, “Shooting Star, did you seriously just break your family's defense barrier?” she nodded. He took a step forward, braced to feel the invisible wall, but felt no resistance. He cocked his head to the side, “Why would you do that?”

It was her turn to shrug, “Dunno, I guess I trust you.”

Bill's mind all but went blank, thoughts scattered and erased by this new information. _You trust me?_ The question seemed to fill his being, swelling too big for his new skull, but for some reason he couldn't speak it. He heard Shooting Star giggle and came back to his senses a bit, to discover that he couldn't talk because his mouth was stretched into a beaming, dopey grin. He tried to return his mouth to normal, but found that the corners kept rising. Finally he forced out his words, “You trust me?”

“Yeah, you triangular dork,” she said, giving his arm a friendly punch, “I mean, you did save me and my family from dying or whatever.”

“Shooting Star...” He said, his voice gentler than he was ready to hear it, different somehow by virtue of coming from a human throat. She was standing in front of him, face upturned, her brown eyes a bit shinier than usual from crying. He could hardly have articulated the things he was feeling. The strange satisfaction and bewilderment of inhabiting a human body again. The simmering guilt and anxiety over a long lifetime of wrongdoing. And her, the desire to woo her, earn her, make love to her...and free her, “About our deal...” he saw a moment of fear flit across her features, but he wouldn't fulfill her fears again, “It's off, okay? It's over. You're not mine anymore... you, you're free.” She kept on staring up at him, waiting for him to say more. He sighed, closing his eye, “I've misused you, and I don't deserve your trust. You're free from our deal, and you owe me nothing more. You've already given me more than I deserve. So...it's been a privilege knowing you, but I should go.”

His eye shot open when she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him hard on the mouth. Before he really had time to respond and kiss her back, she let go and put her hands on her hips. He looked down at her uncomprehendingly, “You're not going anywhere.” He was still a bit dizzy from her kiss, and he must have looked confused because she groaned, “Geez, did this body have brain damage when you got it?! I swear you were smarter than this this morning!” he chuckled, and she smiled at him, “You're not going anywhere, because I don't want you to. You have my trust whether you want it or not, and my love, too. So yeah...” a blush was creeping up her face, hearing her own confession, “You should...stay.”

He grabbed her waist and pulled her against him again, lifting her off the ground and kissing her deeply. Bill wouldn't have believed she could be any more desirable than she was in the mindscape, but this was different. Her body was so soft and supple under his hands, each fiber of her sweater dress tickling his palms. She smelled like cream and honey and something unique to her, like the steam off fresh-baked bread. She tasted so sweet, like she'd eaten nothing but sugar all her life. He was light-headed from the joys of sensing her, feeling the blood humming in his ears and rushing southward. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he slid his hands down to her bottom to better support her weight. Bill nearly dropped her, as if burnt, when his hands crept onto bare skin. He felt his newly-acquired manhood twitch against her thigh, he'd forgotten there was nothing underneath the sweater.

So lost was he in experiencing her through this kiss, he hardly noticed when they lay down on the grass beside the Mystery Shack. Shooting Star had unbuttoned his vest and shirt, and he could feel the soft pads of her small fingertips grazing his skin, lighting a fire in their wake. One of her hands snaked up his jaw, to the back of his neck, and up into his hair. He felt each tiny, delicate nerve singing along that path and heard a hum of pleasure pass out of his mouth into hers. Her teeth dug gently into his bottom lip and his hips involuntarily bucked against hers, digging his hardness into her soft thighs. Bill felt her smile against him and she pushed on his chest, and he gladly let her roll on top of him. For a glowing moment, her weight rested on her hips against his, but it was over too fast. She broke their kiss and he was surprised to hear his own cry of dismay. She giggled, inching her way down his body, “Don't get so worked up, I'm not going anywhere.”

Then he felt her hands fumble with his pants for a second, before freeing him from their confining shape. He sighed as the cool night air hit him, a slight relief from the throbbing heat of his body's demands. The soothing reprieve only lasted an instant, before being replaced by a new sensation, even more incredible. His penis jumped at the feel of Shooting Star's soft lips tentatively kissing the head, and he opened his eyes and looked down at her just in time to see himself slide into her mouth. A ragged sigh escaped him, unable to believe that her mouth could both soothe and ignite him, her tongue and lips impossibly soft and smooth, but the pressure just hard enough. His hands buried into her soft tumble of curls, not guiding her at all, only trying to ground himself. Lost in pleasure, he was surprised a moment later when she lifted her mouth from him, gasping with pain as he pulled her hair. He was on the verge of apology when he heard her thoughts, wordless, but unmistakable, the rush of pain from her scalp filling her with overwhelming lust.

Roughly, he flipped her onto her back, one hand still tightly wound in her hair, his mind an open receptor to how the pain morphed into desire in her mind. His other hand parted her thighs, eagerly probing her drenched lips before diving inside. A sigh rose from her mouth, attaching itself to his heart, as he pleasured her. His new fingers tingling with the feel of her slick heat, the way her hips bucked against him. He could sense, through his mind and fingers, the climax building in her and forced her over the edge, twisting her hair in his hand.

As her climax subsided, her clenched fists released the grass they'd pulled from the ground and found his shoulders, pulling him back up until her mouth found his. Bill's hands slid under her, hugging her hard against him. He pulled her upright while they kissed, his hands finding the hem of her sweater, and peeling it off of her, his hands hungrily roaming her body, disbelieving the infinite softness of her skin. As he laid her back down, still kissing her madly, their hips continued rolling together, each thrust bringing him just to the inviting wetness of her opening. Finally, he heard her moan the word _please_ into his mouth, and needing no other invitation, buried himself in her up to the hilt. Stars exploded behind his eyelid and he was lost entirely to impulse, instinct, and sensation, his mind blank with pure desire, their bodies moving as one.

Time did not exist as they made love, rolling around on the soft grass, orgasms ripping through Shooting Star's body more and more often. In between kisses, her lips came to rest against his ear, and he heard her sigh, “I love you...I love you...” and like that, his own orgasm was upon him, his hands and feet numb as it seemed all the sensation in his body became concentrated in one place, as he gratefully emptied himself inside her for the first time.

They lay in the grass, clutching each other, panting for ages it seemed. Slowly, Bill's mind returned to him and he became aware of three things. The first was that tears were streaming from his eye, rolling continuously down his cheek. The second was that for some time, he had been softly saying, “I love you...I love you...” like a mantra. The third was that, of course, he meant it. For the first time, he loved.

 


	32. A New Day

Some time later, when the waves of pleasure had given way to waves of weariness, they had pulled their clothes on languidly and moved to the couch on the back porch. It was there, Dipper found them in the morning, still fast asleep. He had woken from a long dreamless sleep, relieved that when he opened his eyes, Mabel would be asleep in her bed on the other side of the room. However, when he opened his eyes, he had found her bed empty, and his blood had ran cold. Suddenly wide awake, he had thrown off his blanket and leapt out of bed. Clad in only boxers, he had run down the stairs and flung open the back door, his mind full of Bill Cipher-related horrors. But when he'd opened the door, his fears had been dashed, replaced by something else entirely.

On the crummy old sofa on the back porch, he found two young lovers asleep. Mabel's brown curls were tangled around them, a few strands stuck to her face and Bill's. She was half-curled on her side, her big blue sweater pulled over her knees, the bottoms of her bare feet dirty. Bill was asleep behind her, his body curled protectively against her back, one arm draped over her waist. Both of them looked positively blissful, peaceful and calm. _And in love_ , Dipper found himself thinking. Seeing such an undeniable display of love before him, it was hard for him to summon the anger and betrayal he had felt last night. Instead, his eyes kept returning to Mabel's restful face, the slight curve of her lips in a sleeping smile. A breeze blew, a little brisk for a July morning, and Dipper shivered. He ducked inside, grabbing a pair of shorts and a flannel shirt from the laundry room. He was about to turn around, when he impulsively grabbed a blanket as well. It was Mabel's blanket, pink and fluffy, which he had laundered yesterday in hopes that she would be back to use it.

He crept back onto the porch, shutting the screen door as quietly as he could behind him. Trying not to make a sound, he unfolded the blanket and spread it gently over both Mabel and Bill. With a sleepy murmur, one of Mabel's hands bunched up some of the blanket, snuggling her face against it. Bill sighed, laying his chin on Mabel's shoulder and wriggling closer to her. _I'm being really creepy_ , Dipper admonished himself and tore his eyes from the sleeping couple. The adrenaline rush he had experienced when he saw Mabel's empty bed ensured that he wouldn't get back to sleep, and he had plenty to think about. He looked around uncertainly before taking a seat on the top step to the porch, looking out at the clear morning sun on the grass and pine trees.

It was hard to believe that the day could dawn so peacefully with the day that stretched before him. Even if he ignored the entire topic of Bill Cipher, there was still an inter-dimensional portal that Ford probably had not yet fully disabled, a rift in space and time that had to be contained and guarded. And ignoring the issue of Bill Cipher honestly wasn't a viable option. He tried to dig into himself for some of the indignant rage that had filled him yesterday. _He's a monster,_ he reminded himself, _He owns her, for Pete's sake!_ No doubt when they awoke and reconvened, Grunkle Stan and Ford would still be incensed. Dipper sighed wearily in anticipation of a day full of high tempers. Despite himself, he was too grateful for Mabel's return to feel much anger.

Dipper had no idea how long he sat there, before he heard a floorboard creak behind him. He looked over his shoulder, to see Mabel stretching luxuriously, with a quiet squeal. He smiled, _I didn't even know I missed that._ She rubbed her eyes and saw him sitting on the steps, looking at her, and her face broke into one of her more dazzling smiles. He couldn't help but smile back. She padded over and plopped down next to him, “Top of the mornin', bro-bro.”

He smiled, “Mornin'.”

Wordlessly, she rested her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her, feeling like he had the day before, even when their death seemed unavoidable, it still wasn't enough to eclipse how happy he was to see her. He planted a little kiss on the top of her head and felt her smile against his shoulder. For a moment they said nothing, just happy to sit there together. “Dipper?” Mabel said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, Mabes?”

“I'm sorry,” she said honestly, “I was a butt yesterday. I didn't thank you nearly enough. You guys worked so hard and risked so much, I shoulda just been thanking you till I was blue in the face.”

“No, no, Mabel, don't be sorry,” She sat up, looking straight at him, “I'm sorry. I was just...ugh, I was too wrapped up in my own...stuff. I shouldn't have yelled at you and slammed the door and stuff. It was really lame of me.”

“I just kept thinking of Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford,” Mabel said, looking down at a lock of brown hair as she twirled it around her finger, “How a few years ago, Grunkle Stan wouldn't even hold Ford's hand because he wouldn't say thank you. How life and Bill and their own dumb junk came between them--”

“Don't, Mabes,” She looked up at him again, holding the lock of hair anxiously, “You don't have to worry about that. Life and Bill and dumb junk aren't gonna come between us. You're always gonna be my favorite person in the world.”

She smiled, her eyes a little teary, “Aw, ya big dope. You'll always be my favorite person, too.” He spread his arms, offering a hug, which she gladly returned. Silence fell over them again, before she spoke, her tone much more cautious, “About Bill...” Dipper turned to look at her, “Notice anything different?” Once she asked, he realized her neck was bare.

“The collar!” he exclaimed, “Did he...?”

Mabel nodded, “Yep. The deal is officially kaput.” she tossed her hair sassily, putting her hands on her hips, “I am a free woman!”

Dipper grinned, deeply relieved by this news. But his eyes darted over to Bill's sleeping form, covered almost completely by the blanket and looked back at Mabel. One eyebrow raised curiously as he asked, “But you and him...?”

He watched as Mabel tried to suppress her smile, her cheeks flooding with color, “Yeah, me and him.” she held Dipper's eyes, her face growing serious, “I know you don't like it. I know you don't believe me about him, but...” she looked over at the couch, thinking hard before standing up, “Well, I'll let him talk to you about it.”

Dipper wanted to stop her, as she closed the short distance to the couch to wake Bill. He wanted to ask her to wait, to give him just a little longer to sit and talk with her like things were normal, like nothing had changed. He didn't want to talk to Bill yet, didn't want to hear his voice and see him touch Mabel like he owned her and wonder if every word was a lie or not. But he said nothing. He just watched as she bent over the sleeping form, laying her lips upon his. He said nothing, when he heard Bill mutter something that sounded like 'Shooting Star'. He looked away when he heard Mabel start talking, turning his eyes back to the lightening sky and the sun and the trees, preparing himself to deal with Bill Cipher, the liar, the demon, the ultimate agent of chaos.

He felt weight lowered onto the step beside him, could tell from a lifetime of experience that it wasn't Mabel sitting next to him. He steeled himself. Dipper turned to meet Bill's eye and found himself fighting a laugh. Because in all honesty, the guy sitting next to him didn't look like a chaos god or an agent of anything. First of all, he was still wrapped in the fluffy pink blanket, only his head sticking out of an amorphous pink blob. He'd seen Mabel do that thousands of times, on lazy mornings, at slumber parties, on camping trips, during late night movie marathons. The shock of blond hair was a little frazzled, static-y from the fleecey blanket, not the sleek sheet of gold it had been last night. And the eye, the one golden eye which should have reminded him of the end of the world, was blinking lazily, still bleary with sleepiness. Dipper forced his voice to be as blank as possible as he broke the silence, “Bill.”

“Dipper,” Bill replied, clearly making a conscious effort not to say 'Pine Tree'.

“Uhh how did you sleep?” Dipper asked politely. _How do you start a talk with your sister's demon boyfriend slash ex-owner?_

“Marvelously!” Bill replied, smiling with real enthusiasm, “I've never really been on this end of the human sleep ritual and surprisingly it was way better than messing with people's dreams!”

Dipper laughed, a little caught off guard by Bill's blunt honesty and chipper attitude, “Hah, well, um, that's good. Glad to hear it.”

“Listen, Dipper,” Bill said, a strange emphasis on Dipper's name, as if he was trying to train himself into saying it, “I have some stuff to say to you.” Dipper nodded, slightly dreading whatever craziness was to come, “I'm sorry.”

“Come again?” Dipper knew he hadn't heard that right.

“You heard me right,” Bill insisted, echoing the boy's thought, “I'm sorry.” Dipper stared at him, speechless, “I've got a lot to apologize for, so I'll start with now and just move backwards. Sorry I infiltrated your protective barrier, although really Shooting Star broke it and invited me in, so it's not totally my fault. And I'm sorry if I stepped on your toes yesterday with the whole rescue mission thing. I was pretty much just focused on getting Shooting Star home safe, so I mighta messed with your whole hero thing ya had goin' on. And I'm sorry I kept your sister away from you so long, it was selfish and unforgivable. And I'm sorry I capitalized on your death to trick her into a deal in the first place. And I'm sorry about Weirdmageddon,” he laughed, the laugh somehow different, less harsh, embarrassed even, “I know 'sorry' doesn't exactly cover that, but I'm sorry anyway. Sorry that whole thing came about from me twisting the issues you and Shooting Star were having. And I'm sorry for tricking you that one time and possessing your body. And sorry for helping Gideon, the little shit, when he had a vendetta against your family. And I'm sorry I betrayed your uncle, back when--”

“Whoa whoa, Bill, stop!” Dipper finally cut in, interrupting the nonstop stream of apologies Bill had been spouting. Bill looked at him inquisitively, “Thanks for apologizing and stuff, I guess, but I can't just like say 'okay' and absolve your sins or whatever.” Bill's brow furrowed, nodding ever so slightly, “Besides, save some of those apologies for other people. Grunkle Ford, for one, I know would rather hear it from you directly. As for the other stuff...” Dipper looked at him intently. Sitting there, contrite, wrapped in that ridiculous blanket, obviously trying to resist looking over at Mabel, Dipper could begin to see what Mabel was talking about, but his forgiveness wasn't as easily won, “Bill, I want to believe Mabel when she says you're a good guy. She's not the only one who wants to see the good in people, it's just...easier for her than for most of us. I accept your apologies, but I can't just forgive you like it's no big deal.”

Bill nodded again, “I get that. I'm very lucky to have Sh-Mabel's forgiveness, but I don't know that I earned it.” Bill smiled and asked, “I have a proposal for you.” A cold sweat of suspicion broke out all over Dipper's skin. He eyed Bill cautiously, the smile seemed so genuine, not devious in the slightest. Was Bill just buttering him up to trick him into some kind of terrible deal? Death or servitude or humiliation? “You don't have to say yes,” Bill added, seeming to pick up on Dipper's distrust, “You don't have to agree to anything, just hear me out.”

“Okay...” Dipper said, wondering if he was digging his own grave, “Shoot.”

“If you say you'll give me a fair shot, give me a second chance to prove myself and win you over,” Bill explained, “I promise this will be the last magically-binding contract I ever make with anyone. No more deals, no more tricks.”

Dipper stared at him, scouring his mind for some hint, some riddle to reveal the sinister side of that offer, but he just couldn't find anything. He looked over at Mabel, who smiled and nodded. He looked back at Bill, “All I have to do is give you a second chance?” he repeated.

“That's right,” Bill agreed, “You don't even have to promise to like me or anything, just a second chance.” a hand emerged from the cocoon of the pink blanket, blue flames igniting in the palm and spreading to swallow the entire hand.

Dipper glanced over at the hopeful look on his sister's face. His heart lifted again with gratitude to have her home. _She'd say everyone deserves a second chance,_ he thought, _It's true, isn't it?_

Dipper took Bill's hand.

“Is it a deal, then, brother?” Bill asked, his voice stilted but his smile honest.

“It's a deal,” Dipper said, finding himself smiling right back. They shook hands.

 

-The End-

 


End file.
